Odium
by Stayce
Summary: When an ancient and incredibly powerful vampire is released from his prison, Buffy is forced to make a decision that will affect the fates of both her friends and her enemies. The second in the King Trilogy.
1. Prologue: The Big City

**_BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER_**

****

**_ODIUM_**

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from the TV shows of Angel or Buffy. They belong to Joss and the rest of the gang. All the other characters are figments of my own imagination, so I hope you enjoy them.

Authors Note: This being a sequel to one of my earlier stories called Inner Light, here are some quick pointers to those of you who haven't read it and don't really want to.

King is an ancient and very powerful vampire who used to rule a kingdom of vampires. He was dying of a poison and seeking a life-giving temple beneath Sunnydale to restore him. His symbol is black bladed sword. He was eventually cured but then sealed in by Buffy.

Marcus is a vampire bogeyman, known as The Reaver. His mother was cursed prior to his birth causing him to be still born, yet to grow like the living. Being dead, all of his senses save his sight are dulled and next to useless. His blood is poison to vampires and he is the one who poisoned King. He too was seeking the temple to restore himself but he was never able to use it.

Phew, that took longer than I thoughtJ so without further ado, its now season five (post Riley breakup) and here's the sequel. One last thing, if you've read this far please read and review.

"…hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love

in haste but they detest at leisure…"

                                                                                    Lord Byron

PROLOGUE: THE BIG CITY

The shadows cloaked the stranger as he huddled in the corner beneath his stinking blanket. The night was rich with living blood so glorious he could almost taste it. Mere metres away at the mouth of the alleyway cars roared through the night in a blur of light and sound. The sounds and sights tantalised his senses almost as much as the smells of the world around him. Hundreds of people, men, women and children crammed into such a small space sent his thirst almost spiralling out of control. He licked his dry cracked lips and groaned. The city was so tempting. It was a wondrous feast upon which he could gorge himself and slate his almost insatiable thirst. Worst of all it was only a couple of metres away. He groaned again at the sheer temptation of it and huddled closer to his blanket. The stench of the blanket masked the smell of the thousands of people all around him but it felt like simply being a case of choosing a lesser evil over a greater one. 

The scratching sensation at the back of his head began and immediately he knew there was nothing he could do to hide from this. Wherever he went and no matter how far he ran there was nothing he could do to escape from him. The voice was cruel, endless and unceasing, a constant barrage that taunted and mocked him. It even fought with him. Many times over he had found himself losing control over himself when the voice came into his head. He'd run so far to try and escape from him but in the end he had ended up here. Los Angeles, the city of Angels. He was only looking for one. 

The footsteps echoed down the alleyway chasing the approaching voices back into the recesses of his mind. Slowly he raised his head and watched as the tall figure strode past him and down the alley. It was a man. He was tall with a medium build and walked slightly hunched. A long black coat fell down to the back of his knees and his posture seemed very restrained, almost as if he was holding something back. Considering what the stranger knew of this person it would seem most likely that he was. 

"I know you." He rasped through his parched throat. The sound was low and guttural. 

"What did you say?" The tall man said turning to face him.

"I said I know you." The man leaned closer trying to see him. 

"I'm sorry." He said, shaking his head as he did so. "But I don't think I've ever met you before." He began fumbling in his pocket. "Here. You look like you could use this more than I do." His hand emerged holding a few crumpled notes. The stranger smiled revealing glistening white teeth that seemed surprisingly clean next to the rest of his grime covered body.

"I don't need your money Angel." The man stepped back slightly. He disguised his surprise well behind his brooding mask but the stranger could tell he was alarmed by the use of his name.

"How do you know my name?" he asked. The stranger smiled again.

"I already told you, I know everything about you." 

"And I told you we've never met before."

"And I've never met you but that doesn't matter. The point is that I know you and I know what you are." His own face rippled into a cruel twisted visage of its former self.

"You're a Vampire!" Angel gasped. The stranger wasn't in the least surprised by the amazement in the others voice. After all most Vampires didn't live like this. 

"Got it in one." He said. Slowly he stood up, his height equalling Angel's "But that isn't the only thing we have in common."

"Oh really," Angel said straightening slightly. "And what's that?" The stranger's eyes narrowed.

"Take one guess." He hissed.


	2. Chapter One: Liberation

**_BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER_**

**_ _**

**_ODIUM_**

CHAPTER ONE: LIBERATION

Mendez squeezed the last of his rubbery explosive into the one of the gaps between the boulders that blocked the tunnel and ducked back out into the sewage, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he went. Placing explosives could be hard work. Normally he wouldn't be asked to rush something like this. Instead he and the other workers were allowed to take a slower more thoughtful approach to clearing the rubble. However with yet another overly enthusiastic deadline set for a new Sunnydale housing estate the whole workforce had had to come up with a quicker way of clearing the blocked sewage tunnels that were a major aspect of this latest housing scheme. By God did he hate the city council and their pet projects.

"Ready!" he yelled as he reached the clear point just round the corner on the left side of the junction that ran into the blocked tunnel.

"What was that boss!?" echoed the gruff voice of Jim Bernstein. Mendez rolled his eyes. Sometimes he swore Bernstien was deaf.

"I said ready!" he shouted again. He heard a slight thunk as Bernstien pushed the detonator down. 

The intensity of the sound made by the blast caught him a little off guard. The whole tunnel trembled as a solid wall of sound roared out of the blocked off junction and down through the sewers. As the sound reached him he slipped on something he'd rather not think about and plunged headfirst into the stinking sewage. His stomach turned as the disgusting water closed over his head and he tried desperately not to swallow any. He was only under for a few seconds but they seemed to last for days as he finally found his footing and straightened, his head breaking the surface of the water and his mouth opening in a desperate gasp for air. He felt a huge meat hunk of a hand slap him heavily on the back.

"Are you okay boss?" asked Bernstien sounding concerned.

"Yeah…" breathed Mendez, all along feeling as if he was going to regurgitate his lunch. "Just…fine." 

"Great." Said Bernstien wading past him through sewage. "Let's go check out the hole we just blasted." Mendez watched the enormous brick wall of a man with something approaching envy. He could barely stand to be down here and yet Bernstien was barely touched by the stench. Treading more carefully this time he set off down the tunnel in pursuit of his friend.

The hole was still smoking when they reached it with small chunks of rubble and flaky tile that had been blasted away by the explosives drifting in the frothy sludge that passed for water. Mendez couldn't see very clearly what lay beyond the wall. The darkness there was almost total and creepier still seemed to swallow any light that came near it as if it wasn't welcome there. A sudden feeling of dread surged through him as he gazed into the hole.

"Let's take a look inside." Said Bernstien shining his small flashlight through the hole. Mendez didn't answer. As Bernstien's flashlight cut through the darkness he could have sworn he had he just seen something move in those shadows. He wanted to leave but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't bring himself to move. A strange cloudiness was floating inside his head and all his sensations were becoming duller by the second. It felt as if he'd just drunk all the alcohol in an entire bar and then downed a hundred more bottles on the way home. The sound of another fragment of tile plopping into the water stirred him from his stupor. Bernstien was nowhere to be seen. 

Slowly Mendez produced his own little flashlight and shone it inside the hole. It barely cut through the murky darkness. Holding his breath against the disturbed dust that floated in the beam of the torch he clambered through the hole and stumbled slightly as he slid down a slope of rubble into the chamber that lay beyond. 

The place was much bigger than it seemed from outside and much older two. Strange symbols were carved all over the walls that he couldn't even pretend to recognise. As his torch beam travelled across the chamber a sense of awe at what he saw before him flooded his being. Mendez had always wanted to be an architect and although his skills in the field were severely lacking he could still appreciate good architecture when he saw it and he'd never seen anything like this. Very little of the chamber was left. In most places the ceiling had collapsed burying those patches beneath it under tons of rubble. Huge boulders were scattered around the floor and the rubble strewn across the chamber made walking perilous at best. What he could see though was amazing. A single pillar stood in isolation toward the centre of the room, covered in the mysterious and beautiful writing that adorned the walls. He could tell there had been more. Another smashed pillar jutted from some of the rubble that had fallen from the ceiling and large chunks of the pillars were scattered in what seemed like a rough circle around the centre of the room. A sudden draft from the sewers blew in through the whole in the room whipping up the stale air around him and awakening his nostrils to fresh scents all around him. The feeling of dread returned. They weren't nice smells.

"Bernstien!" he shouted into the darkness, suddenly feeling the need to leave the chamber. The deathly silence of the chamber was all that greeted him.

"Bernstien, you've got to the count of ten and then I'm leaving!" Still there was no answer.

"One," he began, "two…"

"Three." a strange voice he didn't recognise echoed out of the shadows.

"Bernstien, is that you?" he asked hopefully.

"Four." The voice continued. Mendez shone his torch into the shadows desperately searching for the source of the voice. 

"Five." His torch touched on a trace of blood smeared on the walls. It glistened freshly in the light.

"Six." The voice said growing louder with each number.

"Oh God!" Mendez gasped as his torch followed the blood to its source.

"Seven." Bernstiens body was slumped against the wall in a sitting postion. His head had been wrenched clean off and placed neatly on his lap. A slightly surprised expression sat uncomfortably on his face.

"Eight." The voice said. Mendez turned on his heel and dashed for the slope leading to the hole that in turn would take him back into the sewers and away from this terrible place.

"Nine." The voice bellowed. Just as he reached the base of the rubble slope Mendez felt a deadly cold hand clamp across his mouth in a grip as sure as steel while another clutched at the back of his head.

"Ten." The voice hissed in his ear. There was a sudden sharp twisting motion from the hands that gripped his skull and then everything was darkness.

*****

King clambered up through the hole in the chamber wall and out into the rancid sewage that filled the tunnels beyond. The strong smells of the sewer were glorious company compared to the months spent alone in that dank and musty old temple. He licked the fresh blood from his lips, threw his head and back and let out a bellow of laughter that seemed to shake the tunnel.

"At last!" he roared with delight sucking the last of the blood from his teeth. He had been trapped in their so long with barely a bite to eat save the odd rat that had stumbled mistakenly into the temple and now fate delivered him not only his freedom but a wonderful compensation meal to go with it. All right, the two men hadn't been the finest he had drank from. That honour went to the beautiful French noblewomen of eighteenth century. Such feasts were gone from this new world but there were others he had tasted and would taste again. No matter how glorious this moment though his unexpected liberation seemed somewhat hollow. Then it clicked. A celebration of his newfound freedom was required. And what better way to celebrate than with the blood of the girl who had put him down there in the first place. He felt his anger at the little blonde bitch and her loyal lap dog, the Reaver boil up at the memories of his being left to rot in this place. Left at the mercy of the poison that had run wild through his veins. Well now he was free from both of those little torments and he would see that that slip of a girl who called herself the Slayer would suffer like she had never known suffering before. 

"At last." He snarled again. 


	3. Chapter Two: The Pyramid

**_BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER_**

**_ _**

**_ODIUM_**

CHAPTER TWO: THE PYRAMID

The sand crunched under Buffy's sandaled feet as she stood beneath the glistening stars. The cool desert air ruffled her long hair and she shivered slightly before continuing forward. Then, slowly out of the darkness, the sloped sandstone walls appeared. The pyramid was enormous. It stood before her like a giant obelisk of defiance, its peak so high that it pierced the moon in the night sky like a stake through a vampire's heart. There was something about it that felt darkly familiar. In the deepest recesses of her soul Buffy felt fear of the place well up and threaten to burst over into her being. But for reasons she couldn't explain she began to walk toward it. Inside that place blackness waited for her. Blackness that was darker even than the surrounding night. As she moved forward the sound of the sand crunching softly underneath her feet began to die away. Something cold and wet touched at her toes and continued to rise, but still she moved forward. 

Suddenly a cloud crossed the moon, plunging the desert into pitch-blackness and breaking the spell the sight of the pyramid had held over her. Then the moon was back as the cloud moved past. Buffy stared up at the peak of the enormous sandstone tomb. Had something just moved up there? The liquid around her ankles splashed thickly against her ankles. Buffy bent low to examine it in the darkness and her mouth fell open at what she saw. For hundreds of metres in every direction she could see deep red blood seeping up out of the sand, forming a moat of crimson that surrounded the pyramid. Slowly she began to walk backwards away from the pyramid, her earlier subdued fear now beginning to spiral out of proportion. Her eyes flicked up to gaze at the top of the pyramid and once more she saw something move up there. Without hesitation now, she turned and ran. Her feet pounded the sand as she raced away from the pyramid without thought for what lay in the other direction. All she knew was that she wanted to be anywhere but here.

She cursed loudly as her sandaled foot collided with something buried beneath the sand, sending her tumbling to ground. Muttering darkly to herself she turned and began to sweep the sand away from what it was that had tripped her. Slowly but surely the object began to take shape. It was a sword. Its blade was pitch black and the metal did not even glimmer in the moonlight. It was as if no light touched the thing. Gingerly she reached out to touch the blade. The steel was cold, colder even, than the breeze that chilled her bones. Carefully she wrapped her other hand around the blade. Suddenly a heavy boot fell upon her hand, grinding it flat to the ground. Buffy winced in pain as she tore it free and glared up at what had done it. The figure who stood there watching her wasn't a man. He had a man's face, a man's figure, but still, he was not a man. His dark eyes were full of a cold hatred that pierced her heart in a way no mere man's ever could. Slowly, and without taking his eyes off her, the figure bent low and swept the blade up out of the sand. It stood for a moment, testing the blades balance. Cautiously Buffy clambered to her feet. The figure seemed to be paying more attention to the sword than it did to her. She began to back away from the figure but the moment she moved she felt the tip of the sword touch lightly against her abdomen. The figure leaned threateningly forward out of the darkness, his face now mere centimetres from her own. In the pale moonlight she could now see more distinct features staring back at her. Thick black hair was tied back in a ponytail that tumbled to his waist and etched into the pale skin next to his right eye was a tattoo of the same sword that was now pressed lightly against her. His lips peeled back in a feral snarl of contempt revealing glistening white fangs that seemed to ache for her blood. 

"Slayer." King hissed as he drove the blade forward.

*****

Buffy rolled over in bed, sweat streaming off her as she glanced at her bedside clock. It read three twenty seven a.m. Groaning quietly she clambered out from beneath the sheets and padded across the upstairs hall of her house to the bathroom. Reaching for the switch the light clicked into life bathing the small room in its radiant glow. Buffy gazed at he haggard expression in the mirror.

"Just a nightmare." She said trying to reassure herself. The truth was that not all of her worst dreams were 'just nightmares' and she hated it. Having prophetic visions in your sleep could wreak merry havoc on your body clock. She reached out and twisted the tap running cold water into the basin. What if this one wasn't just a dream either? The last time King had been around she'd had one of her prophetic mind jobs as well. She cupped her hands and splashed the cool water across her face, washing away the sweat that soaked her brow. Maybe she had better tell Giles. Quietly she snuck down stairs to the phone and dialled the Watchers number.

Outside something flickered across the moon.

*****

Gibson stood at the entrance to the museum as the early morning sunlight appeared over the distant horizon listening to the distant rumbling sound of the approaching truck. The chorus of birds echoed across the parking lot as he pulled a cigarette from its grubby packet and lit it. Acrid smoke filled his lungs as he dragged deeply on it, the tip glowing brightly in the pre dawn light. He smiled as the enormous vehicle swept in over the tarmac carrying its precious cargo of antiquities. 

Gibson wasn't what most people imagined when they thought of a museum curator. He was tall with sandy coloured hair and taste in fashion that would have put most of Hollywood's elite to shame. He knew plenty of people that did fit the image though. One of them was even living here in Sunnydale. Gibson simply couldn't understand how good old Ripper had lasted in the country for five years. Being brought up in the north of England Gibson was used to the cold and cloudy side of the weather, not the hot and sunny. A cold day in Sunnydale was a heat wave back home. Added to the stifling heat were the mystical energies emitted from the Hellmouth. Anywhere else they would be a background hum, a distant and vague sensation, but here they were clear as day and the constant barrage of sensation was causing him some wonderfully head splitting migraines. 

He was jolted back from his thoughts as the truck rumbled to a stop in front of him with a screeching of brakes. Three men jumped down from the cab. Gibson frowned at the sight of them. Two of them seemed typical truckers but the third… There was something different about him. He was tall and well built with dark hair that was greying at the temples. Gibson liked to think he had a good sense for people, able to judge any book by its cover so to speak, but this one? He couldn't get a handle on him at all.

As the two truckers began to unload the cargo the greying man made his way over to Gibson. 

"Are you the curator?" he asked. His tone was terse, as if he had something better to be doing. Gibson smiled politely at him but dropped it when the expression was not reciprocated.

"I am." He said, imitating the other mans clipped manner. Over by the truck, the other two men were busy hauling a pair of large wooden crates down onto waiting trolleys. 

"Sign here." Said the greying man producing a clipboard and pen. Gibson snatched the clipboard away and began to scribble an indecipherable signature. 

"The darkness is fought by us…" Said the man. Gibson raised his eyebrows in surprise at the words that had just been spoken.

"What did you just say?" he asked.

"The darkness is fought by us…" The man repeated. 

"…While we watch and wait." Finished Gibson. He smiled again and extended his hand. "You must be Marcus." He said. The greying man reached out and took the proffered hand. His grip was carefully measured, as if the he had had to practice it to achieve the desired affect. 

"We have much to talk about." Said Marcus as he stepped past Gibson and into the museum. Gibson watched as the two trolleys and their contents were hauled up the steps and inside the building. He hoped that this was a good idea. Turning on his heel he followed the others inside.

The foyer of Sunnydale museum was so immaculately clean that Gibson almost winced when the crates were slammed heavily to the ground. Cautiously he stepped closer to the crate marked with a red X on the lid. 

"Is this it?" he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he spoke. Marcus didn't seem to be paying him any attention. Instead he was busy inspecting his surroundings. 

"It's in there if that's what you mean." He said as he examined one of the arches that lead to the rest of the museum. Gibson glanced warily at the crate. Why did it have to be here? He could have thought of a thousand safer places to take the thing. Instead the Council was relying on this freak of nature to guard it in the one place on Earth even he wouldn't have taken it. 

"Wouldn't it be safer somewhere else?" asked Gibson. The Reaver paused by a pedestal that held an ornate china pot and turned to regard him carefully. 

"Do you think distance matters to him?" he said simply. Gibson shrugged.

"It would certainly take him longer to reach it." He said. 

"But he would find it eventually. No, it stays here, because here it can be of use to us." He strode past Gibson and began to inspect the main doors to the building.

"You're counting on the Slayer to stop him aren't you?" 

"Maybe." Said Marcus. He knocked lightly on the wooden frame of the double doors. 

"But didn't you tell the council that he defeated her once before." Marcus began to trace the doorframe with his finger.

"The Council always reads meaning into what simply is not there." He sneered contemptuously. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Gibson, feeling a little hurt by such a blatant accusation. Marcus turned and gazed at him through steady grey eyes that made Gibson shudder.

"What I'm saying is that if he had defeated the Slayer when they first met, she wouldn't still be here. She beat him once and she can do it again." Gibson gave a sigh of surrender and turned to look back at the crate. It sat motionless, as if what was inside was nothing more than another ancient artefact, another pretty bauble to add to the museums collection. But Gibson knew that wasn't true. He could feel the raw energy emanating from the crate. What was inside had a great deal of raw power simply waiting to be harnessed. It was difficult to even drag his eyes away from the wooden box.

"Do you think he'll come for it?" he said, turning his head to look at Marcus. The greying man walked over to the crate. He paused for a moment before reaching down and wrenching the tightly sealed lid clean off. The moment he did it, Gibson could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped a degree or two. Carefully, the Reaver reached down into the crate and grasped something with both hands. With a slight grunt he withdrew his arm, bringing the contents of the crate out into the open. Gibson hadn't imagined it to be so large. Grasped tightly in Marcus' hand was a frankly enormous double-handed broadsword with a pitch-black blade and slightly serrated edges. He turned to look at Gibson.

"Count on it." He said. 


	4. Chapter Three: Information, Blood and We...

# BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

**_ _**

**_ODIUM_**

**_ _**

CHAPTER THREE: INFORMATION, BLOOD AND WEETABIX

Buffy wiped the sweat from her brow with one hand as the other, pounded out a steady rhythm against the punch bag. Outside the first rays of dawn were just starting to appear over the horizon. She'd been here for two hours now, training hard while Giles sat in the corner, nursing ever-stronger cups of coffee in an attempt to stay awake as he rifled through a stack of old tomes.

"And you're sure it was King you saw in your dream?" he said taking a sip from his latest mug. 

"Let me think," said Buffy as she turned to the nearby training dummy, nearly taking its head clean off with a severe right hook. "Long girly ponytail, big nasty sword tattoo by the right eye, giant pyramid surrounded by blood…" she nodded toward the original book they had discovered some details in. Giles held up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright, it was King who was in your dream, but you know that doesn't necessarily mean he's free." 

"Yeah, I know." She reached out and grabbing a cloth from a nearby rack. "Its just that this dream was so vivid." 

"King did nearly kill you Buffy." Said Giles. "The way you reacted to the last vampire who did that was, shall we say, a little less restrained." Buffy turned and gave him a slanted look.

"Giles, that was nearly a year ago." She said, wiping the sweat from her brow. "I think if I was going to break down over that then I would have done it by now." Giles gave a defeated shrug.

"I suppose it pays to be cautious." Buffy smiled. 

"Thanks Giles." She threw the soaking cloth into the room's corner. "When are the others coming?" she asked. 

"I rang them as soon as you asked." He frowned, "None of them were too happy at being woken up so early in the morning." 

"Never mind that." Said Buffy, not really listening to him. "as soon as they get here get them researching." 

"What about you?" Asked Giles. She glanced out of the window at the faint sunlight. 

"He's a legend among vampires right," she said, "I'm going to go talk to one."

*****

The cemetery was quiet in the faint light. Too quiet for Buffy's liking. She fingered her stake restlessly as she stood at the edge of a clump of bushes. She wasn't on patrol but that was no excuse to be careless. Vampires didn't wait for her to go on patrol before they went on the hunt. Buffy wasn't scared of most vampires. But King, King was something else. The last time they had met he had nearly killed her and her friends. But that wasn't what made her dread him. What made her dread was how different he was. He had been different to any other vampire she'd ever met. He hadn't treated her like an enemy or a rival. He'd treated her like an insect. To him she had been something that was so beneath his attention he hadn't even intended to kill her. That had just been a bi product. Her thoughts were jolted back to the present by a rustling in the bush behind her. She moved like greased lightning, spinning rapidly on the spot to bring her stake up, ready to turn her assailant to dust.

"White flag! White flag!" yelled a startled looking figure with peroxide blonde hair and a broad English accent. 

"Spike!" Buffy said sounding surprised. "Just the vamp I've been looking for."

"You've got a bloody funny way of showing it!" The white haired vampire shot back as he bent down to pick up the contents of a brown paper bag he'd dropped.

"Been late night grocery shopping?" she said, nodding at the bag.

"Something like that." He replied throwing a plastic mug into the bag with such force Buffy was surprised it didn't come straight out of the other end. She glanced down at the other items. Some packets of blood and…

"Weetabix!" she said, mildly surprised.

"Ask Giles." He said, snatching up the box of cereal and throwing it into the bag with the rest of his shopping seeming slightly embarrassed. He was about to walk away when Buffy caught him by the arm.

"Spike," she said, feeling the need to swallow her pride a little. "I need to ask you something." 

"Listen Buffy," he snapped, "If you're going to try and stake me, fine. If you want to ask me some questions, fine. But can we just do it inside so I don't turn into a crispy kebab when the sun comes over the horizon in about five minutes time?" He turned and stomped off into the crypt. Buffy stood for a moment before following him 

*****

Buffy was always surprised at just what the crypt looked like inside. It felt more like a living room than someone's final resting place. The large stone sarcophagus at the end of the chamber was acting as a makeshift table while a variety of other household items including easy chairs and a bookshelf giving the crypt a surprisingly warm feel.

"Cosy." She said trying to clear the atmosphere that always seemed to gather when she was around the English vamp. Spike shot her a venomous look. 

"I try my best." He spat at her.

"Why am I not surprised?" She laughed

"Now you listen here missy…"

"Spike!" Buffy interrupted him. "It's late…"

"Early." Spike said

"I'm tired…"

"I'm not."

"And," Buffy cut him off again, "I need information." Spike dropped his bag of groceries onto the sarcophagus, tore open a packet of blood from within and squeezed the contents into his new plastic mug.

"I'm not really up on current events anymore." He said, a hint of bitterness entering his voice. "Not since I started hanging around you and your little Scooby friends." 

"It's a good job it's not a current event." Said Buffy, her eyes widened as he opened the box of Weetabix, crunched them up in his fist before dropping the pieces into the mug of blood and stirring it with his finger.

"Give me one reason." He said.

"Spike," she replied sweetly, making sure he could see the stake. "Remember which of us has the sharp pointy piece of wood." The English vampire sucked his finger clean with a thoughtful look on his face.

"What do you want to know?" he said finally.

"I want you to tell me everything you know about a vampire called King." Spike nearly spat out the blood he'd been drinking as he choked back a laugh.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, brandishing the stake higher. Spike shrugged at her and gulped back his disgusting combination of blood and Weetabix. 

"You're asking about a myth Buffy, he's not real. What do you want me to say?" 

"Tell me the myth." She said simply. The vampires face straightened as he stared at her. 

"You're serious!" he said, sounding mildly surprised. 

"Always. Now tell me what you know about him." Spike drained the last of his blood and sat down in a nearby chair. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. 

"Take a seat." He said, gesturing toward a sofa that looked older than the Roman civilisation.

" Cut the crap and just tell me what I want to know!" Buffy said, her voice filled with contempt. Spike gave an exasperated snarl.

"Sit down Slayer and I'll tell you!" he snapped. Buffy shook her head in surrender and slumped down into the crusty old couch. Spike was obviously in one of his moods. Of course that was the rule of his temperament rather than the exception.

"At last." Spike said giving a sigh. 

"Spike!" Buffy snapped. "Are you going to tell me about King or not?" He leaned back in his chair and frowned. "What can I say." He said taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "He's our King Arthur." 

"What do you mean?" Buffy said, leaning forward with interest. She knew so little of King's background that anything Spike could tell would be an improvement on what she knew already.

"He's to vampires what King Arthur is to people. He believed in a particular code for us to follow. It might not quite be chivalry but it was the closest a vampire could get. He didn't believe in senseless killing or killing for pleasure. He believed in killing with a purpose. He had his own kingdom, like Arthur had Camelot." Spike laughed darkly, "Hell Slayer, he even had his own Excalibur. A Black bladed sword called that he called Odium."

"All this I know Spike." Buffy said with a groan. "Don't you know anything else?"

"Give me a chance to get going Slayer!" The peroxide vampire snapped. He gave a sigh as he settled back into his chair. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, King was our King Arthur. The whole kingdom collapsed thanks to one vampire."

"Yeah," said Buffy, "King burned down the kingdom." The vampire looked at her like she had just insulted a war hero. 

"He burned it down because he was betrayed. One of his 'subjects'," Spike practically spat the word. "Tried to spread a new belief in the kingdom. When King saw it had become corrupt and decadent he destroyed the kingdom as punishment." The vampire frowned. 

"Since when have you showed an interest in vampire mythology?" Buffy stared at him evenly. 

"Since the myth walked into Sunnydale." Spike reacted as if someone was tickling him under the armpits. His laughter was a howl that made Buffy a little nervous.

"Bugger me Slayer!" he roared, practically rolling on the floor. "That's like you saying Santa Clause does come down the chimney at Christmas. How many times do I have to tell you he's not real!?" 

"Maybe you ought to say it one more time for the hearing impaired." The gravely voice from the entrance to the crypt sent a shiver down Buffy's spine. It was a voice she knew all too well. Slowly she turned to face the man stood behind her. She knew exactly what she was going to see. The smile of greeting on King's mouth never touched his cold brown eyes.

"Hello Slayer." He said darkly.

"So you are free." She said, trying her best to hide her emotions behind a passive mask. King ignored her. Instead he turned to face Spike.

"Socialising with vampires Slayer," he shot her a raised eyebrow, "I take it this isn't Angel?" Spike was on his feet in an instant. He looked furious.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean!" Kings hand shot out rattlesnake fast and wrapped around the peroxide vampires throat. With a deep snarl his grip tightened as he lifted Spike effortlessly off the ground. 

"I wasn't talking to you." He growled. Buffy watched in horror as the ancient vampire hurled Spike across the tomb. The British vampires head collided against the solid stonewall with a loud crack as he slumped to the ground unconscious.

"Silence at last." King whispered to himself. Slowly he turned to face her as he lowered himself down into Spike's chair. He leaned forward and locked his fingers together. 

"So Slayer," his tone was almost conversational, "How did you know I was free, hmm?" He paused for a moment as he stared at her, his brow furrowed slightly. Then, a gradual smile spread across his face. "You've been dreaming haven't you." It was a flat statement. A cold dread gripped Buffy's heart. He knew! How had he known? Buffy swallowed deeply.

"Look King," she hissed in as savage a voice as she could muster, "If we're done with the creepy small talk can we just get down to the fighting."

"So the Slayer shows her brashness." The vampire gave another of his ice-cold smiles as he stood up. "We don't fight yet Slayer."

"And why not?" She shivered as he placed a pale, sinewy hand on her shoulder.

"Because you're not learning yet." He withdrew his hand from her shoulder and strode out of the tomb.

*****

The door to the tomb slammed shut behind King as he walked off through the cemetery. That had felt good. All the time he'd sat in that dank depressing little hole in the ground had lead to something approaching apprehension about confronting her. In the end he had had nothing to fear. She had been far more wary of him than he had been of her. He had smelled it in the air. There had been other things he'd detected in there. The scent of the vampire she had called Spike had been peculiar. He had never felt detected such a strong sense of passion from a vampire before. It was almost as if… well, as if he loved her. 

A steady breeze tossed a pile of dead leaves into the air nearby. King remembered how love felt. Even as a demon, the pain it could bring was unbearable. It had been so long and he could still feel it. He turned and glanced back at the tomb. Could that Spike really love the Slayer? King shook his head and laughed. Soon it wouldn't matter what that vampire felt for her. Could his love still flourish when the object of his desire was a corpse? King knew all too well how it couldn't. A copy of the local rag of a paper fluttered limply against his leg. He bent and snatched the paper from where it lay. He was about to discard it when he caught sight of the headline. He scratched the sword tattoo next to his eye.

"Very interesting." He said.


	5. Chapter Four: The Blade

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

**_ _**

ODIUM

Authors Note: To Diana, Marie and James, sorry if I kept you waiting but I've been really busy lately and all the while suffering from a severe case of writers block. Here's the latest part and I'll try to get the rest out as quickly as possible without compromising the story quality. Hope you like it.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE BLADE

Giles gave a long defeated sigh as he turned yet another dusty page in the enormous leather bound tome. Beneath it, the wooden table groaned under its weight. Shortly after Buffy had left in search of Spike, Willow, Xander and Anya had arrived and immediately begun aiding Giles with his research. It was beginning to seem to Giles however that even an army let loose upon the massive occult collection at the Watchers Council in England wouldn't be enough to find anything on King. Their research hadn't been completely without merit. They had managed to glean a little more information on events they already knew about but otherwise very little had been forthcoming. Even Anya's knowledge from a thousand years as a demon had yielded little of use. The librarian gave another sigh as he slammed his book shut causing the table to groan again. 

"This is hopeless." He muttered to himself as he removed his glasses and began to clean them with a hanky. 

"Something up G man?" asked Xander, glancing up from the book he was reading. 

"It's just that recently, whenever we need to research something it seems to have been conveniently left out of the all the books I have." He gestured at the tomes that littered the table. "I mean, first Glory and now King. How can a creature who's been around since the dawn of civilisation keep himself such a secret? It just seems so… so…"

"Inconsiderate." Willow offered. 

"Precisely." Said Giles as he began to pace agitatedly around the room. Anya glanced from him to the book she was reading and back again.

"If this is so hopeless does it mean Xander and I can leave now." She ventured. 

"No it does not, so be quiet and carry on read…" Giles nearly jumped out of his skin as the door to the magic shop slammed violently open. He whipped round to see Buffy dragging the body of a smouldering Spike in from the sunlight. Giles hated the smell of vampires burning. It always seemed to smell like sulphur. 

"Buffy!" he said, surprised at her abrupt entrance, "what's going on?" 

"Oh nothing." She replied in an eerily cheery voice. "Just a run in with our friendly neighbourhood King of vampires who is not only free, but very much alive and kicking when I thought he was meant to have a terminal disease, and also seems to know that I've been dreaming about him."

"And for a minute there I thought we were in trouble." Said Xander, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"He knew you've been dreaming about him." Said Giles, ignoring Xander's remark. "How?" 

"I don't have a clue, but my creepout metre is way through the roof on this one." She glanced at the table that was strewn with books. "Any luck?" she asked. Giles shook his head in surrender. 

"I'm sorry Buffy." He said simply. He glanced over at where Spike was beginning to come around. "How about you?" Buffy shrugged.

"Just what we already knew really. King Arthur of vampires, had his own version of Camelot which he burned down, a big black sword he called Odium."

"Oooh, ooh!" Willow said perhaps a tad louder than was necessary. "I've got something!" 

"Really!" said Giles, his eyebrows rising in interest. "From which book?" 

"Not from a book!" she said, sounding increasingly excited. Giles watched in confusion as she clambered out of her chair and hurried over to the waste bin. 

"Willow," he said calmly as the diminutive red head up ended the basket, tipping a large pile of rubbish onto the floor. "We do have bins for several reasons and one of those includes not dumping the rubbish on my freshly cleaned floor." Willow didn't seem to be listening. Instead she plunged her hands into the pile and began rummaging through the unused receipts, empty boxes and other various garbage until her hands emerged, triumphantly clutching a copy of the previous days local paper.

"It's right here!" she said waving the crumpled bundle of pages as if it were a cheque for a million dollars. Quickly she hurried back across the room to one of the books they had been using. Giles watched with interest as she flicked through the pages of the dusty old book until she found a picture of an enormous black bladed broadsword. Carefully she laid the front page of the paper out next to it. 

"Just look at this you guys!" she said. Giles made his way over followed shortly by the others to stare down at the open book. The photo that adorned the front page of the newspaper had been taken at an archaeological dig on the small island of Crete. It displayed a number of perfectly preserved artefacts including a small statuette and several clay pots, but it was what was in the back ground that interested Giles most. Lying somewhat inconspicuously toward the top of the photo was a large black bladed sword. The Headline read 'Sunnydale Museum First To Host Recently Discovered Antiquities.' 

"Looks a lot like Odium to me." Said Xander tracing the out line of the photographed sword with his finger. 

"Do you think it's just a coincidence?" asked Willow. "I mean with Buffy's dream and all…" Giles glanced up at her before turning back to the twin pictures. 

"I'd like to think so, but it would seem unlikely."

"You think this is some kind of preordained whatsit?" said Buffy staring at the picture. 

"Either that or someone has purposefully steered it here. Someone who knows about what happened to King." Giles turned to stare purposefully at her.

"Buffy." he said "We can't let King get his hands on this sword. God knows what it is or what it can do."

"You don't want to know what he can do with it." Spikes distinctive English brogue echoed through the store. Slowly the others turned to look at him. 

"What do you mean." Said Giles, questioning the newly awakened vampire. Spike glanced past them at the picture before continuing.

"The legends say that when he holds Odium, King has all the power of a pure blooded demon. One even claims that it makes him invincible to all mortal weapons."

"Sounds like the Gem of Omara." Said Willow, being careful not to look at Spike as she spoke.

"Oh no precious." Spike smiled evilly, "The Gem of Omara's our Holy Grail. Odium's our Excalibur." It was at this Buffy gave and exasperated sigh. 

"Look guys, all this talking is really interesting and all but now we're going in circles when we should be taking action." Giles looked at her questioningly. 

"Which is what exactly?" 

"Well we can't let King lay his hands on it, that's for certain, but we can guarantee that if we don't do something he's going to waltz right into that museum and right out again, sword in hand."

"So what can we do abo…" Xander trailed off as he spoke, a knowing look developing on his face. Buffy smiled and nodded. 

"That's right Xand." She said. "We're going to steal it."

*****

The sunlight seared Kings dead flesh as he sprinted from the shadows of a nearby tree onto Buffy's front porch. It hadn't taken him long to discover where the diminutive Slayer lived and even less time to get here. God he hated these modern day human hovels. They were so small and painfully bright. They were the epitome of what was wrong with humanity in these times. King had long been of the opinion that the human race was a flagging species, living on borrowed time. This modern age proved it. King remembered a time when humans had had imagination. When they had looked at everything with an eye of how to make it grand. They had understood their place in the world better in those days and had constantly strived to improve their standing. King had never loathed humanity as many of his kind did. He had respected them, not for their strength, or purity of spirit, for they had neither. No, what he had respected was their boundless optimism and creativity. 

Now all that was gone. With each passing century King had watched as that zest for life had drained out of them. The scale of their imagination had diminished and decadence had corrupted them. King despised decadence. He despised it in his own kind and he despised it in his prey. There was a click as the door to Buffy's house swung open and he slipped inside. There was a slight tingle as he moved through the invisible barrier that held others at bay. He could feel that the barrier had been renewed several times in recent years. How could a vampire Slayer be so careless as to allow so many of her prey into her home? 

Slowly he let his eyes travel around the house. Once again, blandness stared back at him. Human homes were all the same. Not in terms of content or appearance, but in terms of feel. They were designed to be warm and greeting to those who would visit. Aesthetic value also seemed of great importance but nothing he saw in any of them showed true imagination or creativity. In an age when technology allowed humanity to reach out and touch the stars, surely they could realise almost anything they desired, and yet what did they come up with? Day time television and Jerry Springer. A silent shiver passed through King at the thought of such things.

Cautiously he moved through the house taking in the minutest details possible. Such detail could give a greater understanding of what it was that you studied. On an Aesthetic level, the house was pleasant enough but lacked any real splendour of any sort. Reams of photos stared back at him from the walls and surfaces, each one like a window into the Slayers life. A strange assortment of ornaments decorated the room, many of which were seemingly older than the house itself. Some of them were very interesting and given more time, King would have paused to examine them more closely. Instead he studied the photos. 

Silently he slipped from shadow to shadow, carefully avoiding the many pools of direct sunlight that gathered across the floor as he made his way to the stairs. Just before he reached them, the sound of the door opening echoed through the house. Moving at speeds impossible for a human to see, he shot through the house and into the living room where he pressed himself flat against the wall and listened intently. Normally he would not have hidden like this, but to let the Slayer know he had paid her little abode a visit would do him absolutely no good at all. 

"Mom, I'm home!" the voice was that of a girl, but it was certainly not the voice of the Slayer. "Mom! Buffy! Anyone home?!" The voice was shrill and grated on Kings nerves like sandpaper. Slowly he leaned from around the corner where he stood to see the source of the voice. The girl was young and quite small. She had long brown that shone brilliantly in the light and was surprisingly thin. King could smell petulance emanating from the girl as she stomped off up the stairs, muttering to herself as she went. 

"No one's ever here to say hello," she grumbled as her feet slammed loudly against the stairs. "You'd think Buffy would be here. After all, its not like she does anything important during the day and all her friends have jobs and lives to get on with…" her muttering faded as she reached the top of the stairs and disappeared into what King assumed was her bedroom. Slowly he stepped out into the hallway, looking up the stairs toward the girl's room. Quickly he glanced over at one of the photos on the wall. He could have sworn she hadn't been on it before, but yet there she was, as clear as day, the Slayers arm wrapped around her shoulders as if… King smiled revealing his glistening white teeth.

"As if the Slayer had a sister." He hissed. 


	6. Chapter Five: Lockpicks and Magic Tricks

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

**_ _**

**_ODIUM_**

**_ _**

CHAPTER FIVE: LOCK PICKS AND MAGIC TRICKS

Gibson sat, slumped in the large armchair in the museum staff room, and let out a groan as another wave of pain hit him. God these headaches were getting annoying. It felt like someone had ordered the entire Zulu nation to start banging on their war drums, right inside his head. Normally when things got this bad he'd just shut his mind off and stop listening to the auras of everything. Trouble was, right now, he couldn't afford to. It wasn't everyday a secret, occult organisation sent you on an all expenses paid vacation to the land of the free, with only the tiny proviso that you had to help stop an ancient and exceedingly powerful vampire while you there. 

Slowly the door to the staff room swung open and Marcus strode in. In his hand he clutched a glass of water that seemed on the verge of exploding, judging by the amount of bubbles coming from it. 

"Feeling better?" Gibson had to hand it to Marcus. The man certainly knew how to disguise his emotion, if not his brooding sense of exhaustion. His aura was one of the strangest Gibson had ever heard. The pitch was so low and mournful it made him want to burst out in tears.

"You know," he smiled half heartedly, "in between the bouts of searing pain, I feel just fine." Marcus didn't give much of a reaction although his aura became a little more upbeat. 

"Here, I got this for you." Gibson gratefully accepted the head ache mixture and gulped it down in one go. It was only equivalent to placing a stick in the Mississippi and claiming it was a dam, but the gesture was kind enough.

"Cheers mate." He said, placing the empty glass on the small table next to him. "You know, if you'd just let me shut off for a while I could…" he trailed off as Marcus began shaking his head. 

"I need to know what you hear, and I need you to listen all the time." Gibson glanced miserably out of the window at the setting sun. He didn't know how to tell Marcus that with all the noise he heard in Sunnydale, the mish mash of strong and weak auras, the varying pitches of hundreds of emotions, chances were he could listen for a hundred years and never hear King. Just as that thought left his head, he felt them, auras unlike any he had heard before. 

"Wait!" he shouted at Marcus, who had turned to leave the room. "I can hear him!" Marcus was at his side immediately.

"Where is he? What's he doing? How does he feel?"

"Bloody hell man, give me a minute." Gibson hissed in his broad Yorkshire accent, momentarily flustered by the barrage of questions. Carefully he reached out and listened. Not that he needed to try. It couldn't be anyone else's aura. The sound was too dark and primal for that.

"He's coming here." He said finally. 

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked. 

"You're joking right?" said Gibson incredulously, "The blokes a fog horn! I could hear him from the other side of the country if I wanted!" Marcus gave a bewildered shrug.

"Whatever you say." Quickly he turned and began to make his way out of the room again.

"Hey!" yelled Gibson again. "Did I say I was finished?" Marcus turned and glared at him, his aura rising in pitch to a veritable scream of annoyance. 

"What else is there to say?" Gibson smiled. 

"Not about him, about her." Marcus reacted the same way as a stone, but his aura definitely didn't. It dropped low and lustful as he spoke. 

"What about her?" he said flatly. Gibson tried to suppress a smile. Not that he blamed the dead man in front of him. The girl's aura was so strong it nearly bowled him over. He wondered if all Slayers sounded like this and made it a point to find out.

"She's coming too." Suddenly his brow furrowed as he listened closely to the sound of her. A wide grin began to spread across his face. "In fact," he said, trying to suppress a laugh, "she's already here."

*****

"How did I get myself into this?" 

Buffy rolled her eyes at yet another of Spikes complaints. The vampire had done nothing but complain since they had left the Magic Box and right now, silence was needed. Spike, herself and Willow were knelt on the second storey of the museum fire escape. Spike was closest to the door that lead inside, a small piece of metal clutched between surprisingly nimble fingers, as he twisted it back and forth to an accompanying clicking sound.

"Would you just shut up and concentrate on picking that damned lock!" she hissed at him. She was, quite frankly, amazed that Spike could do something this useful. She'd always had him tagged as a kind of brute force type. The recent revelation that he had even a modicum of subtlety had nearly caused the bottom to drop out of her world.

"What's taking so long?" whispered a concerned sounding Willow. 

"Our resident 'big bad' is having his lock picking skills spanked." Buffy jeered. Spike shot her a venomous look.

"Now you listen here, missy…" he began.

"Spike!" Buffy and Willow chorused. 

"Open the damned door and get us inside!" Buffy finished. 

"Women!" Spike growled under his breath and concentrated on the door once again. There was loud final click as the door swung open. He turned to face Buffy with a smug grin on his face. 

"I think some thanks are in order." He said. 

"Don't bet on it." Said Buffy, sweeping past him as if the door had been open all along. He gave an unsurprised shrug and followed her inside. 

Buffy couldn't ever remember having been on the second floor of the museum before, and was amazed at just how much of a maze the place was. Long corridors lined with paintings, vases, and benches seemed to blend into one another as the unlikely trio crept silently through them. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally emerged onto a second floor balcony that overlooked the museums main gallery. The moment Buffy stepped inside she immediately ducked back out again.

"What's wrong?" asked Willow, sounding worried. Buffy didn't blame her. Being the Slayer did, on occasion, require a little breaking and entering, but robbing a museum was an entirely different ball game. 

"Guards." She said. "Two of them." Cautiously she leaned around the corner to stare down into the gallery. The guards didn't look that much like security. They were both fairly big and burly, and stood with an air of confidence that she would never expect from anything less than a professional soldier. Slowly she let her eyes travel around the rest of the gallery. The collection of rare antiquities was definitely here. She even recognised some from the photo in the newspaper. 

"What do you see?" asked Willow behind her. 

"The two guards are dead centre. They can see everything."

"What about the bloody sword?" hissed Spike, in frustration.

"There's a lot of stuff in here, just give me break while I…" her voice trailed off. Mounted on a pedestal toward the rear of the room, was Odium. Despite the light in the room, the sword didn't seem to shine. Instead it seemed to soak up any light that touched it. If anything, it was more menacing in the flesh than it had ever been in her dream. 

"Found it!" she hissed. 

"Where?" asked Spike craning his neck around the corner above hers, "I can't see a ruddy thing."

"Well for starters, you're looking in the wrong direction." Buffy smiled. "The sword's over there." 

"I knew that." Said Spike, twisting his head in the opposite direction without missing a beat. Buffy smiled before turning to face her friend.

"Willow, are you ready to work your mojo?" Willow nodded nervously. 

"Then let's get too it Red." Said Spike giving the witch a reassuring pat on the back. Buffy appreciated the gesture. She knew how nervous Willow could get when she knew she was a key component in a plan. She also knew that Willow was completely reliable. 

Slayer and vampire sat back and watched as Willow dropped into a cross legged sitting position, closing her eyes as she did so and assuming a rhythmic breathing pattern. 

"Upon the elements of water and air I call." She intoned in a voice that, despite it being little more than a whisper, was full of commanding presence. "Heed my plea, cloud the vision of those that block our way so we may pass unhindered." As she spoke, a thick mist seemed to roll in through the museum. At first it did little more than cloud the floor, hiding their feet in its thick, swirling mass, but it quickly filled the entire hall. Buffy could barely see her hand in front of her face. 

"Willow." She whispered, her voice sounding oddly muffled in among the fog. 

"No good." Came Spikes thick English brogue. "She's in some kind of trance, probably maintaining this stuff."

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning the rolling grey mass. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. Quickly she whirled around, nearly taking his head off with a well aimed punch. Luckily, Spike was quicker than he looked and just managed to dodge the wild blow. 

"Hey…" he said indignantly, "watch it love." Buffy didn't even bother to apologise. She had more important things to do.

"C'mon," she motioned. "Let's go get that sword." 

Silently the two of them crept to the edge of the balcony, squinting into the swirling fog. From below, the guards voices echoed up to them like some invisible guide as the two men cursed violently in the blinding fog. Buffy felt the cold metal of the guard rail against her palms and reached out to stop Spike. The vampire grunted slightly as he bumped into her arm. 

"You ready?" she asked. She paused when there was no answer.

"Spike?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I can't see you nodding." 

"Ah…" he paused. "Whose bright idea was this anyway?"

"Would you just shut up and follow me." Spike grunted again as Buffy carefully lowered herself over the balcony, her hands wrapped tightly around the guard rail. She dangled there for a moment, summoning herself up for the drop to the ground. A brief rustle of his leather duster marked Spike's arrival. 

"Okay then…" Buffy breathed steadily. "Three… Two… One…" the moment the word 'one' cleared her mouth she released her grip on the guard rail and dropped to the ground below. As soon as her feet touched the ground she tucked and rolled so as to muffle the noise of her descent. Next to her she heard a slight thump at Spike's slightly less graceful fall. The voices of the two men sounded close together. Buffy cursed mentally. They had stuck together. That would make things more difficult. She crept forward, each footfall carefully judged so as to make a minimum of sound. If her bearings were correct then the sword shouldn't be too far now. Suddenly, out in the rolling banks of fog she hear the sound of a door opening, and a familiar muffled voice that she couldn't quite place echoed through the chamber. 

"What the hell…" it said, loud enough to be heard by everyone. Buffy kept moving, preying to God that the voices owner hadn't realised what was going. Unfortunately it seemed he had. 

"Gibson, can you do something about this." 

"Give me a second…" came the voice of another new arrival, this time with a distinctly British twang. Then suddenly the fog was gone. It didn't gradually disappear, or roll away. One moment it had been there and the next it was not. The room was clear and she and Spike were in plain view for all to see. Without thinking she burst into a sprint for the sword. An alarmed cry rang out from one of the guards as he dove toward her only to be caught in a vicious rugby tackle by her partner in crime. Spike howled in pain as the chip in his head went off, but Buffy didn't have time to worry about that now, as the second guard had just stepped into her path. She dropped her elbow and barged him aside as if he was made of cardboard. She was almost at the sword when, out of nowhere, an elbow drop caught her in the back. She fell heavily to the floor and rolled sideways as a large boot slammed down where her head had been mere seconds earlier. As she rolled onto her back, she lashed out with her leg, catching her assailants legs and sweeping them out from under him. The stranger hit the ground with a heavy thud, but recovered almost immediately by rolling backwards into a standing position. Buffy vaulted up to her own feet and span to find herself in a face off with…

"Marcus!" she said incredulously. The Reaver smiled slightly.

"Hello Buffy." He said.


	7. Chapter Six: Reintroductions

Authors Note: sorry this part was so long (and I mean long coming) to anyone whose been reading this story, and I realise that isn't many of you. Still, it's here now and hopefully, God willing and writers block preventing, the whole thing should be done soon. Thank God. 

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

****

ODIUM

****

CHAPTER SIX: REINTRODUCTIONS

"What the hell are you doing here?" Buffy asked, relaxing slightly at the sight of her mysterious friend. Marcus' smile broadened.

"Same old Buffy. No thanks for saving your life last time and no hello for an old friend this time." She gave him a slight grin.

"Same old Marcus, always avoiding the question." She said, dropping her defensive stance and straightening up.

"I like to keep you guessing." Said Marcus, mirroring her movements. Behind her, Buffy could still hear the sound of combat.

"Do you think it would be too much trouble for me ask you to stop your meatheads pounding on my friend over there?" Marcus glanced past her, presumably at Spike who was lying on the floor, helpless against his human opponents who were now repeatedly banging his head on the ground. 

"Hey!" Marcus shouted, "Would you two give it a break and go and guard the front of the building or something. These are our friends." The two men glanced at one another, shrugged and clambered to their feet, leaving a bewildered Spike in a heap on the floor. 

"Would someone care to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded in an irate manner as he clambered to his feet and dusted himself down.

"It's alright Spike," Buffy said without looking at him. "Marcus here is on our side."

"Our side!" said Spike, sounding more than a little dumbfounded. "The Reaver is on our side!" 

"Did the beating give you brain damage or something?" Buffy said, whirling around to face the vampire. "Marcus kills vampires, and so do we, hence my use of the term 'on the same side'" Spike simply glared at her. 

"No need to get uppity, missy." He said and made his way over to examine the sword. Buffy shook her head. Spike was a constant source of irritation to her, and yet, no matter how much he annoyed her, she just couldn't bring herself to stake him. She was so used to him now that whenever she thought about the possibility that she might one day be gone, it actually scared her a little. In some weird way she knew she'd miss him. Toward the back of the room, Willow appeared at a flight of stairs that lead up to the second floor. She looked slightly stunned by the rapid dissipation of her fog spell, but otherwise fine. 

"Well," said Buffy, turning her attention to Marcus again, "are you going to tell me what you're doing here or not." 

"I think you know what I'm doing here." 

"Well I'm guessing that it has something to do with King and his precious little bauble here." She said, nodding toward the sword at the back of the room. Marcus and King had a bitter streak a mile wide and it seemed that wherever King went, Marcus was never far behind.  

"You're bang on with that one." Came the voice of the British man she had heard before. He was fairly tall, though Marcus still dwarfed him. His sandy coloured hair was short and neatly trimmed while His eyes held a slightly haggard look that belied his cheery exterior. 

"And who are you?" she asked, not even trying to hide her suspicions. Other than Giles, Buffy couldn't remember meeting anyone from Britain who had been entirely trustworthy, although to be fair, that rule applied to a lot of the people she met.

"Simon Gibson." He said with a broad smile that revealed his solid rows of strong teeth. "And I'm very glad to meet you Miss Summers." He extended his hand. Buffy didn't take it. 

"You're a Watcher aren't you?" She said, staring at him accusingly. The smile disappeared as he withdrew his hand and returned her level gaze without even flinching.

"In a manner of speaking." He said. His voice had changed at her impoliteness and no longer carried its cheerful edge. Buffy frowned. There was something about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. His steady gaze seemed made feel surprisingly naked, almost as if he could see right through her. He certainly wasn't what she had come to expect from the Watchers. Despite his apparent youth, she could tell he was much older, perhaps even as old as Giles. 

"So you're here to stop King getting his undead mitts on Odium." She said to Marcus, then turned back to Gibson. "That still doesn't explain to me why the Watchers Council have a hand in this."

"It's a long…" Gibson winced slightly and Marcus was immediately at his side. 

"What is it?" the Reaver asked, his voice urgent. "What do you hear?" Gibson rubbed his forehead, seemingly dispelling the pain as Buffy watched in confusion. What the hell was going on?

"It's him." Gibson said finally. "He's coming."

"If him means King," said Spike, sounding a little more agitated at the mention of the vampire that had wiped the floor with him, "then I suggest we snatch up big black over there and do a runner." Buffy raised her hand.

"That motion is seconded." She turned and began to make for the sword. 

"Hang on!" said Gibson, stepping between her and the sword. "Where are you going to take it?" 

"The Magic Box." Said Buffy in reply. 

"That knackered old ruin that passes for a magic shop!" Gibson said, his voice growing darker with every passing second. "What makes that place any safer than here." Buffy rounded on the irritating man, her voice brusqe and to the point.

"Because right now, King is on his way here, rather than there." She was about to take a threatening step closer, when she felt an invisible force close around her throat. It was as if some unseen hand was choking her. Her eyes searched desperately for the source of her unseen aggressor. Then they fell on Gibson.

"I cannot allow you take the sword." His voice rang with a presence it hadn't possessed before, his eyes ringed around the edges with a slight tinge of black. "Not without your firm assurance that it will not fall into his hands." She felt the pressure on her throat ease a little, allowing her to breathe more easily.  

"Well?" he sounded like a stern old man expecting an apology from a child who had done wrong. 

"You have my..." before she could finish she felt the invisible grip disappear. She sagged and immediately felt Willow and Spike at her side, helping her regain her footing as she gasped for air. She glared up at him in fury but his attention wasn't even on her. He was watching Willow, a look of mild surprise spreading across his face. 

"Well then," he said, sounding a little stunned, "So long as that's settled I suggest we do as your bleached friend here suggests and make with the sword while the going's good." 

*****

The alarms of the museum echoed shrilly around the main hall, the sound bouncing back and forth from wall to wall, and hurling itself down corridors with gay abandon. The sound didn't bother King. His boots thudded heavily along the marble floor as he moved from one room of the museum to the other, searching for the sword. His sword. The sword that he had long thought lost. That blade was the only physical possession in the world that meant anything to him. Money was pointless, a frivolity that only humans and lesser creatures of the night chose to indulge themselves in. Some would argue that in these modern days that wasn't true and that money was power. Despite his title, King didn't care much for power. If he needed it, it was his, and anything that stood in his way had better move. What need had he for followers? He believed in power for oneself through purity of goals and spirit, not power over others by backstabbing and political manoeuvring.

At the end of the corridor stood a large set of double doors. He had the feeling they were locked. Without even slowing he reached out and pushed the doors. There was a brief sound of metal bolts snapping under the stress and then they flew apart as if they had never even been locked. The moment the doors were open he scanned the room. It was a large open hall, roughly three stories high, with balconies from the upper levels over looking the main room. A series of exhibits inside glass cases lined the walls, glittering softly in the light from above. The exhibit at the back of the room had been broken into. Slowly he moved toward it, his eyes taking in every detail, no matter how small. Shards of glass from the shattered case covered the floor, each one looking wickedly sharp in the harsh light of the overhead lamps. He stared at the board that identified the exhibit, which included a black and white photo of the sword. His sword. Carefully he leaned forward and picked up one of the larger shards of glass from the shattered case, sniffing the air as he did so. He knew those scents. He turned the glass over in his hands, staring at the sharp edge. The stench of the dead he knew all too well. He had smelt it often in his long life and never more than when that lecherous Reaver had been around. The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall toward him. 

"Hold it right there!" came a loud voice that held an air of authority. King turned to catch sight of a broad man clutching a powerful looking revolver in bother hands, aimed squarely at the small of his back.

"I'd point that toy somewhere else if I was you." He sneered in derision as he turned back to examine the glass more closely. He heard the sound of the weapons hammer clicking back into place. Without thinking he stood, pivoting on his heel and hurling the sharp piece of glass across the room in one smooth motion. It buried itself in the mans throat with only the tiniest sliver of material remaining above the flesh. The stranger stumbled backward, appearing more shocked than anything else. He was still trying to speak when his legs gave way from underneath him and he collapsed to the floor. 

"I did warn you." King said, striding across the room, the scent of perfume wafting into his nostrils. To a vampire, whose sense of smell was already incredibly acute, the scent of her perfume was almost maddening. 

"So Slayer," he hissed in annoyance as he walked out of the room, "You have yourself a bargaining chip." He reached into his pocket and pulled a torn fragment of a photograph into the light. Pictured on it, the Slayers bratty little sister. 

"But then again," he smiled "so do I." 

*****

Buffy hurried over the dull tarmac of the road surface, heading toward Giles' car. The others followed, quickly trying to put as much distance between themselves and the museum as was possible. Just before she reached the car, she saw Gibson and Marcus angle off and head for another vehicle further down the street. 

"Hey!" she shouted, "where are you going?" 

"You think there's enough room for us in that thing?" Said Gibson, pointing at Giles' roadster, "We'll take mine, and follow you." Buffy shrugged. She'd have preferred Marcus to be nearby in case King showed up, but Gibson was an entirely different matter. He gave her an uneasy feeling down in the pit of her stomach, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. 

"Whatever you say." She turned and clambered into the car. Giles was sat in the drivers seat, straining to see through the windscreen at the two figures as they made their way for the second car. She felt shift slightly on its suspension as Willow and Spike clambered into the back seats. 

"We got the sword Giles." She said. He glanced over at her distractedly. 

"Sorry?"

"I said we got the sword." His eyes span to stare at the mysterious black bladed weapon that lay flat across her knees. 

"Well I guess we'd better take it back to the Magic Box and figure out our next move." Buffy nodded.

"And we need to be quick about it." Giles frowned. 

"Why?"

"Kings in there right now, and probably none too happy that we just stole his favourite toy." 

"Ah." Said Giles, kicking the car into gear and pulling smoothly away. Buffy couldn't help but notice him craning to see if he could see the drivers of the other car.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Giles turned to look at her, seemingly startled. 

"Sorry?" he said, looking a little embarrassed. 

"What are you looking at?" Giles glanced back over his shoulder at the other car following them.

"I thought I saw someone I recognised." He said. 

"You know him!" Willows voice rang with surprise. 

"Know who?" said Giles, sounding confused. 

"The guy in the car behind us." Said Buffy. "Marcus is with him and he claims he's a Watcher."

"Not just a Watcher." Said Willow shaking her head. "He's got power, and a great deal of it." Giles' brow furrowed at that. 

"Willow," he said slowly, "just how much power would you say this man has? Does he qualify as a Warlock?" Willow nodded slowly. 

"I've never felt anything like it." She said. "When I placed a ward around Buffy, he could have batted it aside without even thinking. The only reason he didn't was because he was surprised."

"That was a spell he was casting on me!" said Buffy, shocked that she hadn't thought of it sooner. A Warlock?

"What was his name?" said Giles, looking between them both. "It's important that you try and remember."

"He's called Gibson." Said Spike. "Creepy guy too." Giles nodded to himself. 

"I thought so."

"So you do know him." Said Buffy staring at Giles in surprise. Giles nodded again. 

"All too well."

"What's he like?" said Willow, her voice strangely eager.

"I haven't seen him in a long time." Said Giles, his voice disapproving "He may have changed but I doubt it."

"You sound like you hate the bloke." Said Spike.

"I don't hate him." Said Giles, glancing in the rear view mirror at the blonde vampire. "I just don't trust him."

"Why?" asked Willow, "Whose side is he on?" Giles' answer was chillingly simple.

"His own."


	8. Chapter Seven: Dead Girl Walking

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

ODIUM 

****

CHAPTER SEVEN: DEAD GIRL WALKING

The door to the Magic Box swung rapidly inward, rebounding of the doorstop embedded in the floor with surprising force. The bells chimed loudly through the silent store, their cheerful tinkling offsetting the grim mood of the gang who strode in through the door. Buffy clutched the sword tightly, as if it were a lifeline. She couldn't describe it, but when she held the sword she found it harder to concentrate. There was something nagging at the back of her mind, a quiet sadness, mixed in with equally muted despair. It was so slight, so distant it actually felt worse. She couldn't get a handle on its source, couldn't beat it back like she could other emotions.

"Well…" came Gibson's patronising voice, rising her from her silent feelings. "You going to hide that or just stick it in the window on the off chance he'll be stopping by?" She shot him a venomous look. 

"You keep talking to me like that, I'll feed you to King when he turns up." 

"You think it's that bad?" Said Willow, sounding concerned. "You think he'll definitely find us? I mean he doesn't know about the Magic Box right?" 

"Doesn't matter Red." Said Spike, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. Buffy's eyes widened in surprise. She'd never seen Spike so agitated before. "He'll find us sooner or later. Follow one of you back here, or just find your homes and burn them to the ground one by one 'till you give him what he wants."

"But there must be something we can do." Willow continued with gratingly false optimism. "Some way to keep him away from it, right?" she glanced around the assembled group. Eventually Marcus shook his head. 

"Sorry Willow, but your vampire's right." Spike gave him a sharp glare. "King will find us, and when he does, he'll come for the sword. There's nothing we can do to stop him." 

Buffy sank miserably into a seat at the large round table near the counter as a wave of despair flooded over her. She couldn't believe the way this was going. They were all giving up one by one. King was winning and he had barely even lifted a finger. She shook her head in disbelief. There was definitely something to be said for having the reputation of an unstoppable vampire butcher. Gradually she tried to pull herself together, tried to bring her thoughts under control but all she could think of was King, his angular features twisted into the demonic face of a vampire. She could picture his razor sharp teeth at the throats of each and every one of them, tearing them apart as he came for Odium. Odium… That was it. Slowly she stood up and placed the sword on the counter, her slim fingers releasing the hilt almost grudgingly. The moment she let it go, it was as if a veil had been lifted. The despair she was feeling fled to the back of her mind as if it had never existed. She could think again. 

"Buffy?" it was Giles' voice. "Buffy, are you alright?" She blinked slightly at the question. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" 

"I asked are you alright?" 

"Yeah…" she said, staring at the sword all along. "I'm fine. Just be careful when you're handling the sword. There's something off about it." Gibson gave a sharp laugh. 

"I could've told you that. I've never come across anything that sounded in my head so strongly." Buffy frowned. That was the second time she'd heard references to Gibson hearing things. Things it seemed other people couldn't.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she said. Gibson smiled at her.

"You're telling me, our mutual friend Ripper here hasn't told you about me yet?" he turned his smile to Giles, the vaguest hint of accusation creeping into his voice. "Don't keep your Slayer very up to date, do you Ripper."

"I wasn't sure it was you until we were almost back here." Said Giles, both his voice and eyes wary of the other Watcher. "If I'd known you were here, believe me, I'd have told her to steer well clear of you." Gibson turned back to Buffy, seemingly ignoring Giles. 

"Ripper has never trusted my talent Buffy, though there was a point where it made for some…" he paused as if considering the right word, "interesting times. Isn't that right Ripper?" Giles simply stared back at him disapprovingly. Gibson continued as if the tension level in the room hadn't just sky rocketed. 

"You see Buffy, I have a unique talent among my friends on the Council. I can hear auras." Willow looked up from where she was wringing her hands in desperation, confusion etched into her face. Buffy didn't blame her. 

"What do you mean 'hear auras'?" she asked. 

"He listens to people's souls." Said Giles as he sank into a chair, never taking his eyes of Gibson the whole time. "Or at least something similar. Depending on the strength of your aura, he can hear you a world away if he listens carefully enough." A slight grin touched his lips. "It makes him an excellent blood hound for the Council." Gibson's eyes darted sharply to Giles then back to Buffy again. 

"I prefer the term, tracker." He sniffed. 

"You're telling me you can hear where King is right now?" asked Buffy disbelievingly. Gibson gave her a sage nod. She folded her arms and gave him a smile that wreaked of mock innocence 

"Prove it." She said smugly. 

"Easily done." He said, his mouth twisting into a dark smile. "He's heading for your house." Buffy's smug smile evaporated. In its place was a look of complete horror.

"My hou…" she paused as her mind whirled from the shock. King knew where she lived! Worse still he could come and go as he pleased! 

"Dawn!" she yelled, panic spreading through her whole being. She was running before she even finished, vaulting up the small stairs and out through the Magic Box door in an instant. 

"Buffy wait!" Marcus' voice was distant, almost as if he was shouting for someone else. "Buffy!" she turned to see him sprinting after her. 

"Marcus, I don't have time for this. He's found my home, and every moment I waste is giving him more time to get there."

"Just answer me this!" 

"What?!" she demanded. 

"Who's Dawn?"

"She's my sister." Marcus let out a slight sigh. 

"This complicates things." A look of disbelief spread across her face. 

"What's that supposed to mean? Does my sister not fit into your carefully considered plans for dealing with King? You never explained to me why you had such an interest in him!"

"I mean it complicates matters about whose to guard Odium. I mean if you even want to have a chance against King, you're going to need my help, right?" Buffy stared at him for a moment, before a slight smile split her lips. 

"Thank you." She said softly. 

"Hey," said Marcus with a small grin, "the longer we stand here wagging our jaws, the longer he has to get to your house right?" Buffy nodded, already breaking back into a run.  

*****

Buffy leapt from passenger seat of Giles' car before Marcus had even killed the engine. She sprinted desperately up the path to her front door, nearly tripping twice in her mad scramble to reach the house. How could she have been so brain dead! King knew her name, her friends, everything he needed to know to track her down, and yet she'd assumed he'd leave her family alone. No, she hadn't even assumed. The thought had just never come to her! Since this had all started two days ago, she'd never once thought that King might be tracking down her home so that he could strike out the dearest thing to her. Her family. She didn't even pause to open the door. Her shoulder dropped, she charged full tilt into the solid wood. The flimsy frame around the lock splintered under the pressure and the door slammed open, sending a deafening crash through the house. 

"Dawn!" Buffy yelled, panic setting into her voice. "Dawn where are you?" There was no answer. She dashed hurriedly through the ground floor, pausing in each room for no more than a moment or too as she hunted for her sister. "Dawn! Please answer me!" tears were practically streaming down her cheeks as she hurtled through the house. 

"Dawn please!" There was still no answer. She dashed into the hall and was about to start up the stairs when she caught sight of him. A broad figure stood at the top of the stairs, the sword tattoo next to his eye creased by a smile that split his face. 

"Need a tissue Slayer?" He chuckled, motioning derisively at the tears that stained her cheeks. Buffy glared at him, her eyebrows arched in fury. 

"What have you done with Dawn?" she growled in a tone that surprised even her. 

"Dawn?" said King, cocking his head slightly. "Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn." He clicked his tongue slightly as he mulled over the name. Buffy watched every move he made, cautiously waiting for any opening she could use to launch an attack. She watched as his hand moved slowly to the inside pocket of his jacket. All the time he was moving down the stairs toward her. He produced a torn section of photo, holding it up to the light as he moved. 

"That would be this skinny little thing I assume, yes?" Buffy clenched her fists tightly, her fury rising with each passing second. "She can't be more than fifteen years old…." He paused and licked his lips. "Good, the younger they are, the better they taste." 

Finally it exploded. With a scream of unadulterated fury, Buffy launched herself up the stairs toward the ancient vampire. As she hurled herself through the air, all she focused on was his face with that set jaw and dark penetrating eyes, eyes that all of a sudden she felt the need to tear out of their sockets. She delighted in the image of King being brought down by her as she plunged a stake into his heart and spat in his dust.  Suddenly she felt herself brought up short, a cold hand grasping at her throat. Her eyes widened as she felt icy fingers begin to tighten, choking the breath out of her. King held her like a rag doll, one arm holding her a full two feet from the stairs, so that she was eye to eye with him. His eyes looked her up and down, giving her an appraising gaze. 

"So…." He said coldly. "You're learning after all." His hand tightened even further as Buffy kicked out vainly at him, her lungs felt like they were on fire. Just as everything began to fade into darkness, she heard a familiar voice crying out for her. 

"Buffy!" she opened her eyes to see Marcus stood at the bottom of the stairs, tensing for his own attack. 

"Let her go King!" he roared. "This is between you and me. Leave her out of this." King frowned for a moment, before tossing Buffy aside as if she was nothing more than an insect. She crashed heavily through the banister, plunging to the floor a good six feet below her. 

"Between you and me?" he said, sounding a little taken aback. "What makes you think this is between you and me?" It was Marcus' turn t frown now. 

"Hasn't it always?" King stared at him for a moment, then threw his head back and let out a roaring laugh. 

"You're a fool Marcus!" he said, barely able to control his laughter. "And an arrogant fool at that. I owed you a debt of pain for what you did to me. A debt I now consider paid in full. If not for me you'd have your dream by now, your dream of life, to feel a heart pounding in your chest and blood racing through your veins. My debt to you is paid so now, you hold no interest for me." He turned his attention back to Buffy, and for an instant, a hateful sneer crossed his face. 

"The Slayer on the other hand, has earned her own debt with me which must now be paid." Slowly and painfully, Buffy clambered to her feet, all along glaring at King. 

"If I owe you, come and collect." She said, trying to hide the wince inducing pain she felt as her back straightened. "I'm sure I can pay you back." King gave her a dark smile as he stepped off the stairs and strode past Marcus to the front door.  

"Unfortunately Slayer," he said, turning to face her as he reached the doorway, "your currency isn't up to much at present. If you want your sister back, I suggest you listen for you already know how much I hate to repeat myself. Bring my sword to me at the old smelting plant on the outskirts of town in five hours time. If you don't have it for me then, well…." He held up the picture of Dawn and unceremoniously tore it in two. "I take my payment in the Girls blood." With that, he turned and disappeared into the night. 


	9. Chapter Eight: Last Resort

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

ODIUM 

****

CHAPTER EIGHT: LAST RESORT

Buffy slumped miserably into the couch beneath the living room window, sobs of guilt beginning to wrack her whole body. She couldn't believe it. After all their work to reach Odium first, he simply waltzed straight into her home and took her sister from straight under her nose. The thought of Dawn brought fresh tears streaming down her face. She felt Marcus wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders in a tender embrace. His grip was measured and cautious, as if he didn't truly know his own strength. 

"Buffy…." He began but she cut him short.

"How could I let this happen!" she sobbed as the despair surged in over her. "How could I just let him march in here and take her like that!" 

"It wasn't you fault. You were trying to stop him in every way you could. You weren't to know he was going to do this." She turned her tear stained face to glare at him. 

"But I should've done!" she snapped sharply. "I've been at this too long now to be so careless." Just as she finished speaking, the door to the house crashed open again as Giles and the others stormed inside brandishing stakes, axes, crossbows and a variety of other weapons, most of them sharp and decidedly lethal looking. 

"Where is he!" demanded Xander, gripping his own double headed axe so tightly his knuckles turned white. "When I find that creepy, sword obsessed freak I'm going to…to…" his voice trailed off as he caught sight of Buffy weeping on the couch. 

"Oh God!" said Willow staring at the carnage around the stairs. "We're too late."

"Buffy," said Giles dropping his crossbow to the floor so carelessly that it sent a wicked looking bolt hurtling across the living room to embed itself in the wall. "What happened here?" Slowly, Buffy raised her red rimmed eyes and stared at them all. 

"It was King." She said slowly, dredging up the strength to speak from deep inside her. "He was here, and he was so fast. I couldn't stop him. He'd already taken her when we go here." Slowly her eyes fell on Gibson, stood toward the back of the gang, surveying the damage with a cool gaze. 

She felt hatred for the Watcher begin to bubble up insider her. He'd known King was on his way here all along, and he hadn't told her. It was his fault King had Dawn. Not her fault but his. 

"You!" she hissed sharply. "What are you doing here?" Gibson eyes suddenly locked with hers, a faint trace of amusement showing in them. 

"I came to help." He said, his voice ringing with mock innocence. 

"Help?" said Buffy questioningly. She clambered out of the chair and advanced threateningly toward him. "You haven't helped since I met you. You tried to stop us taking the sword and you let Dawn get captured. What sort of mission did the council send you on eh?" she was within spitting distance of him and still she continued forward. "Just what is your reason for being here?" 

"Buffy please…" Marcus began, leaping to Gibson's defence. Buffy shot him a look that silenced him in an instant. 

"Don't even try to stick up for him Marcus. After all, you brought him here." Gibson grinned at her smugly. 

"Actually Buffy, the council brought him here." He took a step forward and as he did so, Buffy felt an invisible wall forcibly shove her back. With each step he took, she was forced further back until her body thudded dully against a wall. None of the others except for Willow seemed even to have noticed. 

"My mission is to make sure King doesn't leave Sunnydale alive." He said. "A mission I fully intend to complete." Buffy stared back at him defiantly. 

"No matter how many people die to achieve it?" she said, raising her jaw so that she was looking at him down her nose. He might have her pinned against the wall, but she had faced far worse than this over grown spell worker in her time and she was damned if she was going to let him intimidate her. He cocked his head slightly at her, for the first time a look of remorse flittered briefly across his face. 

"I'm sorry for your sister Buffy." He said, his voice sounding genuine. "I don't take pleasure in playing you all like this, but I do what I must. King is an abomination, the worst of his kind and one that must be destroyed at any cost. Next to him, you…" he waved at the others, "all of you, are just tools to achieve that goal." Suddenly the barrier that pressed her hard against the wall vanished and Buffy felt herself sag slightly. 

"My sister isn't a part of this." She said simply, "and I hate you for bringing her into it." Gibson shook his head at her. 

"I didn't bring her into this Buffy, King did." 

"Doesn't change things." Xander piped up. "She's still an innocent in all of this." Gibson nodded slowly.

"I accept that." He took a deep breath. "Which is why I'll help you get her back." Buffy frowned. 

"What happened to 'I'll do my duty no matter what.'?" He flashed her that same self-confident grin she was already growing to loath. 

"A moment of weakness." 

"Uh, all of this talk is real nice'n all, but I was figuring that maybe we should be trying to save the little niblet rather than just stand here yakking about it." Said Spike. Giles shot the English vampire a look of disdain. 

"In order to take any sort of action Spike, we must first decide on a plan." He turned to Buffy. "I take it King has taken Dawn with the intention of ransoming her for the sword, yes?" Buffy nodded. 

"That's about the size and shape of it."

"Then what's the fuss?" said Xander. "We find where he's holding up, bust in, grab Dawn while the super brigade here," he motioned at Buffy, Spike and Marcus, "take on King and kill him." 

"Won't work," said Buffy and Gibson simultaneously. They glanced at each other briefly before Gibson continued, "I've read a lot about our friend King and he isn't stupid enough to fall for a diversion tactic like the one you pulled with Angelus." The mention of Angel sent Buffy's mind whirling. How could she have over looked such a simple idea!

"So how else do we deal with him and get Dawn back short of actually playing into his hands and giving him the sword?" said Xander, looking at the others in turn. Buffy wasn't paying attention. Her mind was racing as she worked her way through all the possibilities. The plan was crazy but it could just work. 

"I've got one Harris." Said Spike with a snap of his fingers. "How 'bout we send you in as a decoy, then while he's busy eating you alive, we snatch the girl and high tale it in the opposite direction." 

"Spike, have I stressed how much you're not helping here?" Xander snapped back. 

"Hey you guys!" Buffy said, loud enough to get their attention. "I've got an idea." They all turned to stare at her. 

"Spill it then Slayer." Said Spike. "Can't you see the suspense is killing me?" She hot him an annoyed glance before she turned back and began to outline her plan. 

"First of all, Marcus and I take the sword to him at the deadline. We give him the sword, he hands over Dawn…." Gibson was already shaking his head. 

"We can't give him the sword Buffy. Have you any idea how much more powerful he'd become if he got his hands on it?"

"….and," Buffy continued, ignoring the interruption, "once he's given us Dawn, Marcus and I attack him while Willow here provides a little surprise for our good friend King." The plan was met with confused frowns from all concerned. 

"Uh, Buffy," said Willow, raising her hand as if requesting permission to speak, "it sounds like a great plan and all, but what sort of surprise am I going to spring on him?" Buffy turned and looked at her, a grin spreading across her face. 

"His soul." She said simply.  

*****

Dawn sat silently in the chair, staring out of the foreman's office window at the smelting plant. The heat from the cauldrons of molten metal, and the stench of the foreman's decaying body made the room almost unbearable. Cautiously, she reached up to wipe away the sweat that beaded on her forehead. The strange vampire with the ponytail continued to watch her impassively, his dark brown eyes tracking her every movement with precision and care. She folded her arms tightly across her chest. It made her feel a little better, almost like some kind of barrier against those searching eyes that seemed to bore right through her. 

"So…." She said, rolling the word off her tongue as she tried to remain calm. It wasn't particularly working but she had to try something. Picturing Buffy in these kinds of situations often helped. Despite her arguments with her sister, Dawn was quietly in awe of her strength and how, no matter what, Buffy could remain calm in almost any circumstances.  

"So what?" the vampire's voice took her aback. This was the first time he'd said a word to her. 

"So?" she said again, questioningly this time. The vampire continued to stare at her expectantly. Suddenly she realised she had been about to say something. 

"So uh," she began again, vainly searching for a conversation topic. Not the easiest thing under that steady, unflinching stare. "Don't you ever blink?" she frowned staring closer at the vampire's eyes. He blinked in surprise. 

"What?"

"I asked if you ever blinked." She said, smiling. "Looks like you do." His upper lip twitched slightly into a snarl. Dawn looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"What are you going to do with me now?" she asked, turning the dust on the floor with the toe of her sneaker. 

"What concern is that of yours?" 

"Well hello!" said Dawn sarcastically, "me being your prisoner and all kind of involves me in all of this." The vampire stood up and took a threatening step forward. 

"What do you want me to do to you?" he hissed. Suddenly he moved again, so quickly that to Dawn's eye he was little more than a blur as he stepped behind the chair she was sat on, swivelling it to bring her face mere centimetres away from his. 

"Do you think I'm going to torture you? Demand answers to questions that you cannot possibly respond to? Or maybe," his face shifted into vamp mode, "you just expect me to bite you." The ridges and burning yellow eyes slowly slipped back into his ordinary features. 

"Well what else are you likely to do?" she asked, attempting to swallow her fear. She hated it when vampires did that. It creeped her out no end. 

"I'll tell you what." He said, stepping back away from her. "Absolutely nothing. It would be a waste of my time and energy, plus I simply wouldn't benefit from it."

"So why am I here?" she asked. 

"Because big sister has a soft spot for you a mile wide. She'd happily end the world to save you. Luckily I don't expect our dear little Slayer to go quite that far but she does have something of mine, which I want back."

"And if she doesn't come for me?" said Dawn. She didn't doubt that Buffy would turn up, but she liked to try and cover all the bases. The vampire smiled as he made his way back over to his chair and sat back down. 

"Then I'll find something to do with you." He chuckled softly.

*****

"Buffy, are you sure this is such a good idea?" Giles was stood with his back to her, hunting through some of the shelves in search of the necessary ingredients for the spell of soul restoration. Once again Buffy thanked her lucky stars that they had the Magic Box as a HQ these days. God knows where else they could have got some of this stuff at such short notice. 

"Giles, I'm sure. This is as good a plan as any other that we've had." 

"So you say." Said Gibson as he poured across the incense shelves. "But you are aware that this isn't exactly a simple spell. The chances of you pulling it off are slimmer than Calista Flockheart."

"Hey," said Willow, sounding slightly hurt. "I'll have you know, I like that show. Besides, I've done this before. Wasn't especially fun." She frowned. "As a matter of fact it was head ache inducing, spirit flowing through you scary, but I know I can do it again." Gibson shrugged. 

"That I don't dispute. But even if you perform the spell, if it all goes off without a hitch, are you absolutely certain of what you'll be getting?"

"Sure we're certain." Grinned Xander. "One more miserable defanged vamp to add to our collection. Hey, we keep it up at this rate, we could end up with the whole set!"

"No, Gibson's right." Said Giles, ignoring Xander as best he could. "Giving King his soul back might not necessarily solve our problems." Buffy frowned.

"How could it make things any worse than they are all ready?" she asked. "After all, it worked with Angel."

"Yes, but with Angel we knew what we were getting." Said Giles. "We know absolutely nothing about King's personality before he became a vampire. At present King has no real interest in using his…." Giles paused as if searching for the right words, "considerable abilities for any other reason than self preservation."

"Oh," said Buffy with mock chirpiness, "let's not forget the kidnapping my sister and trying to kill me thing." 

"But the only reason he is doing that is because of what we did to him."

"You're saying we should have left him be a year ago? Let him take the temple and use it to heal himself?" Buffy couldn't believe this. Giles was practically bending over backwards to protect a blood sucking vampire.

 "I'm not defending his actions Buffy." Said Giles as he dumped a set of incense sticks onto the table with the rest of the ingredients they'd gathered for the ritual. "But the truth is, giving him a soul may not necessarily make him good. What if in life, he was a murderer, or an Adolph Hitler scale bigot? He would have incredible power at his fingertips and may be far more free in its usage than King…."

"Giles, I get the point." Said Buffy, cutting him off. "We could end up making something even worse. We may even be better off just leaving King as he is, another vampire." She turned to Spike. "But he isn't just another vampire, am I right?" The peroxide blonde nodded.

"He's the Lord High Bad Ass of vampires." He said. 

"See what I mean." Said Buffy, pressing her argument desperately. She knew they'd do it any way, but she wanted them to be comfortable with decision. There'd been too much bitterness floating about recently to add more dissension to the ranks with this as well. 

"Sure there're risks, but if we pull this off and he's good afterwards, just imagine the kind of ally we'd have. It'd be like having the Master on our side."

"Hey!" said Spike indignantly. "Whose to say you don't already!" Buffy shot him a withering look that sent him back to hunting through his own section of the shop. Giles shrugged. She could tell he still had his doubts but he wasn't going to argue any further. He'd learned not to press the matter too far when Dawn was involved. 

"I think that's everything." Said Willow going over the table with the critical eye of a master chef examining his ingredients. Buffy supposed being a witch wasn't too different. You had the hot, sweaty build up filled with effort and concentration, followed by the moment of bliss when your work finally paid off, then depression when you realised you hungry for more. 

"Wait a second." Said Willow, still eyeing the spells components. "Where's the Orb of Thesela?" Giles rolled his eyes and made his way over to the back of the counter. 

"You know," he said, snatching a glass ball from where it sat on top of a pile of stock order forms, "I'm going to give up using these bloody things as paper weights. They're just too damned popular." He grudgingly handed the small glass orb over to Willow, who placed it on the table with the rest of the gear. 

"Now then, when we start where's everybody going to be?" said Buffy, making sure everyone knew his or her positions. She listened as the group rattled off their assigned duties, smiling secretly to herself. They'd come a long way since High School. These days they were quite the outfit, dealing with some of the most cruel and twisted things the forces of hell could throw at them. Now how many people could boast that on their resume.

The plan itself was quite simple. Buffy and Marcus headed out to the smelting plant with Odium. Once they reached the plant, they called back to the Magic Box so that Willow could begin performing the spell. Spike would remain behind as protection should anything go wrong, that way at least, if Buffy and Marcus failed, the spell still had a shot at being completed. Once the exchange was made, Marcus would get Dawn out of the plant and back to the Magic Box, while Buffy did her best to keep King occupied. The one wild unpredictable element of the plan, save the spell of course, was Odium. They still had no idea quite what powers it would grant to King. All Gibson could determine from his own particular ability was that the sword had a powerful aura similar to King's. If even half of what they had learned about the sword was fact rather than fiction, Buffy's attempt at distraction might not hold King up that long at all.

Slowly she let out a long deep breath, a vain attempt to relax herself. She'd been getting increasingly edgy over the past few hours and now they didn't have much time left. If they were going to do this, they'd need to start soon. 

"Is everything ready?" she asked. Willow glanced at her briefly before turning her attention back to the table littered with the components for the ritual that would summon King's soul.

"By the time you get there it will be." She said. Buffy clenched her jaw. 

"Okay then, let's get to it."  


	10. Chapter Nine: Juggernaut

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

ODIUM 

****

CHAPTER NINE: JUGGERNAUT

The car ground to a halt, its tyres crunching loudly in the loose gravel that surrounded the old building. Buffy clambered out, carefully handling the sports bag that contained Odium. She didn't want to touch it again, not after what she had felt the last time she'd laid her hands on it. Behind her, Marcus killed the engine and clambered out of the car. He slammed the door loudly and stared up at the smelting plant. 

"I'd just like to go on record as saying that I think this is a very bad idea." He said as he watched the smoke drift gently from the enormous chimneystacks.

"Noted." Said Buffy, taking the cell phone from her pocket and dialling the number of the Magic Box. "But we don't really have much of a choice do we." Marcus didn't answer. Buffy listened to the quiet ring tone of the phone. It was cut short mid ring by a sharp click as someone answered the phone

"Hello?" Xander's voice was cautious and guarded. 

"Xand, it's me. We're at the plant and ready to go." She could almost picture Xander nodding as the others waited with baited breath back at the store. 

"Understood." Said Xander, "We'll get started here." She was about to hang up the phone when he spoke again. 

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful in there." She smiled slightly. It was good to know her friends still cared when she went into these situations. They'd been through that many but rather than become jaded and cynical, they still had a lot of the edge they'd possessed at the beginning. 

"Thanks Xand, and keep an eye on Willow. This spell could be dangerous for her if it goes wrong." 

"Don't worry about us Buff. Just get Dawn back safe okay."

"Okay. Good luck.

"You too." With that, the phone clicked down. There was a moment's silence before the droning dial tone kicked in. It was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever to Buffy. She took one last look back at the distant lights of Sunnydale and let out a long sigh. She turned to Marcus. 

"Let's go."

*****

Xander hung up the phone and turned to the others. They were all staring at him expectantly. God he wished he hadn't been the one to answer the phone. It made him feel like the guy you always saw on cop programs. The one who had to stand awkwardly on some innocent families front door step, uneasily twisting his hat back and forth in his hands before delivering the bad news. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself a little. 

"She's ready." He said, in what he hoped was an even, confident tone. "We should get started." Gibson glanced around them all. 

"Are you all sure that this is a good idea?" Surprisingly Spike was the first one to answer.

"No." he said, "but then again, it never is with this bunch. You've just got to learn to roll with the punches, and pray some bastard doesn't flatten you. Now let's get to work." 

They hurriedly set up the spell, Xander lighting the candles and herbs required, before lighting his own tied together bundle of incense sticks and waving them through the air in the rhythmic motion Willow had shown him earlier. Across from him, Giles cracked open the large leather bound volume containing a series of Latin incantations. Willow settled herself cross-legged in front of the burning candles and incense, the sheets of computer print out that Jenny Calendar had paid for with her life clutched tightly between her fingers. Spike paced agitatedly around the table, pausing every once in a while to stare uncomprehendingly at the tableau before him.

"Now you're sure this isn't going to mess up and I'm not going wind up moping around, writing awful poetry and pining after a love I can never have right? You're fixing King up with the soul right?" Xander shot him a look.

"Would you shut UP!" he hissed. "And what's all this poetry gunk you're spouting on about." Spike flushed slightly, quite the achievement for a man with no circulation. 

"Never mind Harris." He said and resumed his agitated pacing. Xander glanced at Giles. 

"Maybe we should do him while we're at it." He suggested. Giles just glared at him. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Xander resumed his incense wafting. 

"Okay then," said Willow, "let's begin." She grasped a set of ivory chips marked with a series of symbols and cast them over the table, next to the burning incense. 

"Quad parditum est invenator." Giles intoned in Latin.

"Not dead, nor not of the living," Willow began to chant in a dull monotone, "spirits of the interregnum I call."

"And so it begins." Gibson whispered under his breath.

*****

Buffy's feet sounded out loudly as she made her way across the high gantries of the smelting plant. Beneath her, she could see huge cauldrons of molten steel glowing faintly through a haze of steam and smoke that hung in the air. She already knew why the place was still running instead of being shut down for the night. They'd only gone a few steps into the building when they found the bodies of the workers. From their pale, bloodless faces and punctured arteries, it looked like King had been feeding well since he chose the place as a lair. She shuddered uneasily at the thought of those men, huddled together in a corner, waiting to see which of them the monster chose to feed off next. 

Despite the noise of the machinery, the place felt silent to Buffy. A dark quiet that seemed to seep into her and make her feel dread at her very core. The stillness of everything simply wasn't natural. She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. 

"Any sign?" asked Marcus at her shoulder. She turned and gazed up into his grey eyes, those eyes that looked so tired, so full of weariness. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for Marcus, to carry the weight of perfect memory from the moment he was born. It was almost overwhelming to think about. Suddenly she felt awfully grateful to have him at her side. There were far worse partners in crime she could have ended up with. Spike immediately sprung to mind, but if she were brutally honest with herself, even Spike would be better than being here alone. 

"I can't see him." She said, straining her eyes to see into the thickening clouds of steam that were wafting across the gantry. 

"Oh but I can see you Slayer." She whirled around to face back the way she had come. King was stood there. How had he moved up so silently? Even her softest footfalls had clanged loudly against the metal grating of the gantry. 

"Where's my sister!" she demanded, trying her best to hide the unease she could feel building within her. The anger she had faced him with at the house had subsided long ago, leaving only a creeping sense of dread at facing him again. He smiled slightly and stepped a little to the left, reaching behind his back and yanking a struggling Dawn into full view. 

"Such a talkative girl this one." He said, gently stroking her flowing brown hair. Dawn closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the fear she was obviously fighting. Buffy's heart immediately went out to her. She hadn't asked to be brought into this. It had all been Kings doing.

"Let her go." She said simply, the instincts she felt to protect her sister strengthening her fading resolve. His smile split his face further. 

"You know how much I would love to oblige Slayer, but you still have my sword. Now I suggest you give me back what is mine, or else…." He grabbed Dawn up by the scruff of the neck the same way Buffy would a cat, dangling her over the gantry so that she was suspended above one of the huge cauldrons of molten metal. "….we see if fear really does lend your kind wings." Slowly Buffy bent, dropping the sports bag to the gantry with a muffled thud of metal against metal. She unzipped the bag, dipping her hand inside and drawing out the long black bladed broadsword that was Odium. The moment her fingers wrapped around the hilt, she felt a wave of sadness sweep over her. The feelings of loss and despair nearly brought her to tears as they battered her senses. It wasn't like before where they had simply nagged at the back of her mind. Now they haunted her every thought, threatening to overcome her and drive her to her knees in abject misery. 

Kings eyes lit up at the sight of the black blade, a strange satisfaction Buffy had never seen in him before filled those dark brown orbs as he gazed longingly at his long lost sword.

"Give it to me…." He said, slowly moving Dawn so her feet dangled safely over the gantry once more. "….and I'll let the girl go." Never taking her eyes of the ancient vampire, Buffy placed the sword on the floor, feeling the same sense of grudging as her fingers unwrapped themselves from around the hilt. Straightening, she placed her foot against the sword and slid it across the gantry with a loud scraping sound. 

King barely paid Dawn any attention as he flung her at Buffy. He stooped low, sweeping the sword up and twirling it in his hand as if getting a feel for the sword once again.

"At last!" he hissed. Buffy grabbed Dawn up from where she had fallen and hugged her tightly. 

"I'm so glad you're safe." She whispered into her sister's ear, fighting back the tears of joy she could feel welling up inside of her. "I was so scared he would do something to you." Dawn hugged her back equally tightly. 

"I'm fine Buffy, now let's get out of here before he changes his mind and tries to make a snack out of us." Buffy closed her eyes tightly and squeezed her even tighter before pushing her back at arms length. 

"Dawn, listen to me." She said, her voice turning stony and no nonsense. "This is Marcus," she motioned at him where he stood carefully observing King. 

"He's going to get you out of here and back to the Magic Box where all the others are waiting." Dawn frowned, the confusion evident on her face. 

"But what about you?" she asked. Suddenly a look of understanding flashed across her face.

"You're not coming are you?" Buffy shook her head. 

"I've got…." She stared over Dawn's shoulder at the vampire as he swung the sword, testing its weight. "….business to attend to." She finished. Dawn clenched her jaw tightly and set her shoulders in a way that reminded Buffy of the stern pose their mom had always adopted when she didn't want any nonsense from either of them.

"I'm not leaving you alone here with that." She nodded in the direction of King. Buffy's eyes narrowed. Dawn could be so stubborn at times. 

"I'm not giving you a choice in the matter. You're going with Marcus and you're going now." Right on cue, Marcus stepped over and took Dawn, gently but firmly by the wrist and hauled her off down the gantry. 

"Don't worry about your sister." Buffy heard him whisper to Dawn. "She can take of herself just fine." She gave him a thankful smile before turning, stony faced to glare at King. 

The vampire who had watched the crucifixion of Jesus Christ and drank the blood of his own kind turned from practicing with his sword to watch her. A cold smile spread slowly across his face. 

"So Slayer, are you learning yet?" Buffy smiled back coyly, pushing the dread she felt at facing him deep down into the pit of her stomach. 

"Oh not yet." She replied. Quickly, she crouched low, her hand plunging back into the sports bag and withdrawing a sword almost the size of Odium. Its blade flashed wickedly in what little light there was. "But then what can I say. I was always a slow study." King hefted his own sword, his feet sliding forward as he readied himself to attack. 

"I don't know Slayer." He said, eyeing the sword with a look of dark knowing. "I think you're learning just fine." And with that he launched himself at her.

*****

Xander's arm ached from waving the bundled sticks of incense through the air and the stench was beginning to get on his nerves. The whole ritual was taking a lot longer than he expected and seemed to be taking its toll on everyone involved, especially Willow, who had begun to drift. Her words were sporadic and forced, the earlier rhythm she had adopted falling away to be replaced by stuttered and jarring sentences. She was struggling against something that Xander didn't understand but the outcome of the battle was already obvious. Willow was losing.

"Gods bind… him." She swallowed hard, as if choking back bile. "Cast his heart from the… the… evil realm." With each sentence, her voice and breathing became more laboured. 

"We've got to do something!" Xander hissed. "She's losing control." 

"There's nothing we can do." Said Giles, watching Willow through eyes filled with restraint. He wanted to try and help her too. Xander could feel it. "If we were to interrupt the spell, we'd have to begin again, and I don't think Willow has the strength for that, nor Buffy the time." Xander stood silently, waving the incense through the air. 

"Then I guess all we can do now is wait." He said.

*****

Buffy's sword rang loudly, sending vicious vibrations down through her arms as she turned aside another thrust by King. Her arms ached from the fighting, and she could feel exhaustion setting in. She'd forgotten how fast he was. King slipped through her guard like greased lightning, raining down blow after blow on hapless defences. Since the battle had begun she'd been slowly driven across the gantry, her sword ringing with each attack King made. 

She brought her sword up to block another attack. She overextended her thrust and reacted too slowly as his arm snaked out to grasp her tightly by the wrist. With a feral snarl, he bent her arm round behind her back, leaving her no choice but twist with it or have her bones snapped like twigs. Suddenly, Odium was at her throat and he twisted her wrist, sending her own weapon clanging loudly down through a hole in the gantry. 

"Do you feel it yet Slayer?" King hissed in her ear. "Do you feel the blood racing in your veins? I know you do! Why? Because I can feel it myself."

"You can't feel anything!" she snapped back. "Your deader than Marcus! You traded in everything worth living for just so you could _exist_ that little bit longer!"

"You judge me too quickly Slayer." He whispered at her ear. She heard the sickening crunching as bones changed orientation and flesh tightened and twisted. She didn't even need to look to see what his face had changed to. "After all, you've never felt what it is to be one of us!" With a hiss he span her round to face him.

"But that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. I can see it in you Slayer, the same way I've seen it in countless others over the centuries. You want to know what it is we exist for! Why we live the way we do!" She felt Odium press lightly against her stomach, as he leaned closer, his fangs brushing her neck. 

"We live for this moment." He whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. "We live for the hunt and the kill." there was a brief pause. "Just like you."

"I'm not like you!" Buffy snarled vehemently. "I don't kill! I Slay!"

"No real difference Slayer. Only difference is what you do it to." Buffy clenched her teeth as she felt the anger boiling up inside her. She wasn't like him, this thing, this monster that had preyed for generations on the innocent and the weak. This creature that had butchered even his own kind when they failed to prove themselves to him. She was not like King!

"I." She said from behind her gritted teeth, each word a separate sentence. "Am. Not. Like. You!" by the final word, her voice had risen to a scream of rage, and she lashed out with a vicious backhand that sent King reeling. 

"Now your learning!" he bellowed and hurled himself at her, Odium swinging out in a wide arc. With a scream of fury, Buffy's leg shot out, catching Kings sword hand with a vicious crack that sent Odium sailing through the air and over the edge of the gantry. For a moment King stood dumbstruck as the sword sailed from his grip. Then the realisation struck him. 

"No!" he roared, leaping for the sword, but even with his lightning fast movement he was too slow. The sword plummeted down out of his reach to disappear with a sizzling hiss into one of the huge cauldrons of molten steel. King stood for a moment his arm dangling limp, fingers still outstretched to snatch at sword that no longer existed. For the briefest of moments, Buffy watched with amazement as the ancient and powerful vampire shook with sadness. 

"Soonan." He sobbed, a lone tear trickling down his cheek, before tumbling end over end down through the air to sizzle quietly as it followed Odium into oblivion. Suddenly King whipped around, his eyes burning with hatred for her. 

"You!" he snarled, all trace of humanity vanishing from his eyes as a beast more terrible than anything she had ever faced stared down at her. He seemed to grow in height, his whole body trembling with unadulterated fury. "You will pay for that Slayer. You debt has extended beyond pain, beyond death! I will make you regret the day fate chose you to stand against me!" 

"What's the matter King?" said Buffy with a levity she certainly didn't feel. "Did I break your toy? Did you lose all your special powers?" King stared at her.

"Powers?" he said. "That sword had no powers save the power it held over my heart. It was all I had left of her Slayer. All I had left of my beloved!" he leapt forward, not even giving Buffy a chance to react as he wrapped his fingers around her throat and hoisted her clean off the ground and into the air. 

"I am done with you Slayer! I am done teaching you!" he hissed as his fingers tightened, choking the air from her lungs "Now have you learned Slayer, have you learned what it is to be a King!" he finished in a brutal roar. Drawing his arm back, he hurled her down the gantry. Buffy sailed through the air as if in flight, gasping for air as she flew. As the gantry rushed up to meet her, she felt something jagged and plunge agonisingly into the soft flesh just beneath her ribs. Opening her mouth, Buffy screamed in agony.

*****

Xander watched as Willow struggled further into the spell. Her breathing was laboured and coming in ragged gasps, sweat pouring from her brow as she clutched tightly at the pages. Her eyes seemed to be drifting in and out of focus and she was visibly swaying as if some sort of dizziness was assaulting her. Xander could feel the blood draining from his face as he watched her suffer. 

"Return, I… I… I call on… y… you." She threw her head back and gasped, her whole body shaking with violent convulsions.

"Giles!" Xander snapped. "It's killing her! We've got to stop this now!" Giles stared from Xander to Willow and back again, seemingly torn between his duty to Buffy and his love for the thrashing witch. 

"Giles!" Xander yelled. Slowly Giles began to close the book that rested on the table in front of him. 

"Wait!" Gibson's voice was sharp and commanding. "Don't stop. Keep going." Xander stared at him in disbelief.

"What did you say?" he demanded. 

"I said keep going!" Gibson yelled. Xander jumped slightly at the surprising volume of the Watchers voice. Hurriedly Gibson made his way over to where Willow was still writhing on the table. He leapt onto the table, folding his legs beneath him and reaching out to her. Gently, he took her hand and lifted it. 

"Do you hear me Willow?" he asked. "If you can, then I'm begging you, let me in, let me take away the pain and the suffering, let me take it from you and make it a part of me." He flattened out her hand so that her fingers were outstretched, then he placed his own hand into hers, lifting it so that her fingers tightened, intertwining with his own. 

"Let your pain become my pain." He continued. "Let my strength become your strength!" A loud clap of thunder sounded through the store and suddenly, a bright flash lanced out from between their fingers. Gibson was thrown back visibly by the blast, hurling him off the table to the floor where he began to writhe in agony. Xander stared dumb founded at Willow. Her face was full of colour again; her whole body straight and tense with unseen energy while her breathing was even and tempered again. Suddenly her eyes flashed open and Xander recoiled at what he saw there. It wasn't Willow staring out from behind those eyes. It was something else, something old.

"Tayimplore douomnae nouegnora chestar rougamentae!" She chanted steadily. Xander glanced over at where Gibson lay, writhing on the floor. Spike was kneeling at his side, his iron grip holding the watcher as still as he could manage.

"What are you staring at me for?" he demanded. "Get waving that bloody incense, or do I have to come over there and do it for you?" Xander abruptly turned away and went back to waving the incense, both frightened and fascinated at the same time by the terrifying things unfolding around him.

*****

The pain was incredible, a white-hot pain that seared through her whole being, yelling at her to scream until there was nothing left of her lungs to scream with. With agonising slowness she began to pull herself off the jagged remains of the gantry rail she'd landed on. The feeling of the cold metal twisting inside her made her want to be sick. With loud gasp, she pulled herself free, immediately bringing her hand up to clutch tightly at the wound. Gingerly she clambered to her feet, biting back a cry of agony as a searing jolt of pain rushed from the wound up through her whole body. She could feel the warmth of the blood seeping between her fingers, slowly she tried to hobble away from the direction she knew King was in. 

"C'mon guys." She winced. Even muttering hurt. "How much longer can it take?" then she heard him, his deep gravely voice carrying through the chillingly still air. 

"Slayer!" he roared. "I know you're out there. I can smell your blood. It's fresh and warm. You know you won't get far nursing a wound like that. Suddenly there he was, striding through the clouds of steam toward her like some unstoppable juggernaut. His fury had been bitten back, now a tense anger that raged silently beneath the surface. For the first time she could remember in years, Buffy felt total despair wash over her. What if the spell hadn't worked? What if it couldn't work on a vampire like King? She had been so stupid to chance her life on such a risky plan. But then life was all about taking risks. At least hers was at any rate. Risk taking and risky decisions, that was the way a Slayer lived. And now here she was faced with another one. Should she turn and do what she was born to do, fight this unholy monstrosity from beyond the grave, or should she take the option anyone else could do. For the first time in her life Buffy took the option everyone else would do. She ran. 

She didn't get very far. King was on her after just a few steps, his breath cooling the back of her heated neck. Without care or finesse he yanked her round to face him, his eyes boring deeply into hers. There was something there she hadn't seen before, but something she knew had always been there. At the back of Kings eyes there shone a deep despair and sense of loss, the same thing she had felt in Odium. 

"And now Slayer, I will finally put you out of your misery. But before I drain you dryer than the Sahara, have you any last requests? I am after all, a noble being." Buffy stared at him for a moment then laughed. 

"Noble! You?" she laughed again. "You're pathetic King. You're a coward who chose to simply exist rather than to accept death!"

"Me! A coward!" King roared. "DO I LOOK LIKE A COWARD TO YOU?" His incredible bellow practically shook the whole gantry. 

"Why else would you cherish that sword? The only link you have to keep you from a death that terrifies you and a life that you left behind." With a snarl of fury King dug his hand into her fresh wound, eliciting a cry of pain from Buffy. 

"That sword that you so callously destroyed," he hissed darkly, "was the only thing I have truly cherished for the past three thousand years! It was all I had left of her, soaked in my own blood and bound to me in a way you could never imagine!" His face twisted violently, fangs extending further than she had ever seen on a vampire, his brow plunging further, slanting his eyes upward making him almost bat like in appearance.

"And now Slayer," he snarled, licking his lips with a strangely sinuous tongue, "I see if you taste as good as I remember!" He leaned close toward her neck. Buffy closed her eyes. 

*****

Clouds of incense drifted through the air, as the candlelight sent shadows in the corners of the Magic Box whirling. Xander continued to vainly wave his long since burned out bundle of sticks, vainly thinking it still mattered to the spell. He could feel it now. The energy flowing all around him, in him, through him, all flowing toward the crystal Orb of Thesela that sat, nestled in the middle of a plush rosy cushion like a large round egg. Behind him, Gibson continued to writhe in agony, jaws biting down hard on a stake Spike had wedged there to prevent him from biting off his tongue. Giles was watching as well, equally fascinated, as the mystical energies gathering around them were bent and contorted to Willow's will. 

"ATZAFEER!" She chanted at the top of her voice. "ATZAFEER! AHCUM! AHCUM!" Suddenly the Orb burst into life, the strange otherworldly suspension at its centre bursting outward in a blaze of light. There was howl as an invisible wind rushed out from vanishing Orb. It hurtled through Willow, roaring and howling as it tore free of her and hurtled off into the ether. 

*****

All Buffy heard was King gasp in shock before he dropped her to the floor. She opened her eyes to see him staggering backward, his normally brown eyes glowing with a strange otherworldly light. He gasped again as something else seemed to ram into him, throwing him further back across the gantry to slam heavily against the railing. It groaned under his weight for a brief instant before buckling. To Buffy, moments seemed to stretch on into hours as King teetered on the edge of the gantry. Then, slowly, gravity began to assert itself. Without a sound, King toppled backward off the gantry and out of sight, his fall accompanied moments later by a distant sounding thud. Clutching at her wound Buffy rolled over onto her back. God she was tired. Then she blacked out. 

"Buffy?" the voice sounded distant to her, but strangely familiar. "Buffy? Are you alright?" Slowly she tried to move. Everything felt hazy to her, like she was floating on a distant cloud and only the voices were barely reaching her. 

"Buffy?" the voice said again. She moved her mouth but no sound came out. She tried again, her dry lips cracking slightly as he formed the word.

"Dawn?" she said. 

"Yeah Buffy, it's me. I'm here with you. You're going to be alright." Gradually, Buffy opened her eyes. Dawn was staring down at her, large blue eyes staring concernedly down on her. Cautiously she sat up, a shoot of pain from the wound in her side sending her hand grasping at it. Suddenly a memory flashed into her mind. 

"King?" she asked. "The vampire who kidnapped you, is he around anywhere?" Dawn glanced around before looking back at her and shaking her head. 

"I haven't seen him, but your friend Marcus said he was going to look." Buffy glanced over at the hole in gantry handrail. 

"Dawn, can you give me a hand getting up?" she asked. "There's something I need to check." 

"Sure." Said Dawn, slipping her arm under Buffy's and around her sister's chest. Carefully, the two of them picked their way across the gantry to the edge of hole. With Dawn's help, Buffy leaned forward and stared down into the smelting plant. The remains of the handrail King had fallen through lay in a twisted heap on the ground below, tiny slivers of metal glinting duly in the light from the smelting cauldrons. There was no sign of King anywhere. 

"C'mon." said Buffy evenly. "Let's get out of here." 


	11. Chapter Ten: A New Day

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

ODIUM 

CHAPTER TEN: A NEW DAY

Buffy sat at the table in the Magic Box, doing her best to ignore the throbbing pain at her side. Even with Slayer speed healing, a wound like this would take a week or two to heal completely and would probably leave a nasty scar. At least it was one of the physical variety, something she could deal with in time. Unlike Gibson. No matter how much she disliked the man, she had to admit that in the end he'd come through for them, and that made her feel only the slightest bit sorry for him. He was slumped in a chair in the corner of the store, his face a deathly pale, huge dark rings under his eyes. Pure exhaustion seemed to radiate from him. Buffy watched as Willow brought him a mug of coffee. The witch was chirpier than Buffy had expected following on from such a hugely draining ritual, but if what the others had told her that was to be expected. Gibson had absorbed the brunt of the pain and suffering that the spell worked on its caster. It was something Giles said wouldn't be a quick thing to recover from. 

She turned and stared out of the window at the setting sun. Marcus had been out all day, hunting high and low trying to find King. The last time he checked in he'd been about to risk a jaunt back down into the sewers and the remains of the temple where Buffy had imprisoned King. Buffy let out a long sigh. God she hoped the spell had taken. If it hadn't King would be along soon with the intention of finishing what he had started the night before. 

"Buffy?" asked Willow. "You alright?" Buffy turned, slightly surprised by the sound of Willow's voice. 

"Huh… oh I'm fine." She turned to stare back out of the window at the sinking sun. "Just thinking."

"You've been doing a lot of that recently." Said Willow taking a sip from her own cup of coffee as she did so. "You think he's still out there don't you."

"Where else would he be?"

"The spell worked Buffy. I felt it."

"Either way all we can do is wait and see if it takes." She said looking away from the window. She never saw the shadowy figure move away from the window and disappear into the gathering dusk. 

*****

King strode up the grass verge that lined the highway, the small town of Sunnydale shrinking rapidly into the gathering darkness behind him. In the sky above, stars were beginning to appear. He loved the stars. He hadn't thought about them in a long time, but he remembered what it was like as a child, sitting out in the desert far from the Nile, staring up at the stars and wondering what truly lay so far away. This last century had answered that question, but none of the mystery was gone. He stopped for a moment, briefly staring up at them. Soonan had always loved the stars. He let out a choked sob of misery. 

"I miss you." He wept quietly to himself. Why had she done this to him? Why had that damned Slayer done it to him? For every second he wasn't haunted by memories of his love, even her bones long since dust, he was haunted by memories of the faces of the hundreds who had fallen at his feet over the years. He could remember them all so vividly, more faces than stars in the sky. 

"Why did you do it to me?" he hissed as he stared back at the town he'd left behind. "Better to just kill me and get it over with!" as his anger grew he began to hear him. The voice at the back of his mind hissed and spat obscenities, screamed at him to hunt beneath the stars he loved. To hunt the Slayer and her friends, split them open like water melons gorge himself on their blood. He shook his, head but the voice did not disappear completely. It withdrew further into his mind, cursing and spitting, crying out for blood and mayhem. 

He turned to go when his eyes lighted on a small green road sign. It read 'NOW LEAVING SUNNYDALE' then beneath in small flowing italics 'come back soon!' King stared at the sign for a moment. Sunnydale. Even the name conjured up images of the diminutive blonde Slayer. The Slayer who had made him feel this way. 

"Buffy!" he roared in fury and struck out, punching a large hole straight the sign with a crunch of bone against metal. Then as quickly as it had come, the anger vanished, leaving him only with despair and sorrow. He sank to his knees, clutching at the sign post the same way a drowning man clutches for a plank of wood in a storm. 

"Why?" he wept desperately again. "Why did you do it to me?" He stayed there for a long time, crying softly to himself. 

There was a loud grinding of tyres and the blinding glare of headlights filled his vision as he glanced up to stare at the vehicle that had pulled over next to him. The door to the car swung open invitingly. 

"Are you okay?" came a woman's voice from inside. King straightened the shame he felt at crying like he had was nothing compare to the embarrassment of being caught doing it. 

"I'm fine." He lied, sniffing slightly.

"You sure? I mean I can give you a ride somewhere if you really need." King glanced cautiously up the road to either side of him, before giving a brief nod and clambering into the car. There was only one other person in the world who could help him make sense of all the things flowing end over end inside his head right now. 

"So…" said the driver. "Where are you headed?" 

"LA." Said King staring straight up the highway, never once looking at the driver. "I'm headed for LA." 


	12. Epilogue: Under the Stars

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

ODIUM 

****

EPILOGUE: UNDER THE STARS

King stared up, watching the stars glittering across the black night sky. The chill air on top of the dilapidated hotel Angel called his home made him shiver slightly. LA was remarkable at night, especially from this height, a huge, shimmering cityscape of glass and steel shining brightly under the glow of thousands of lights. It didn't compare to the beauty of his home though. He remembered that city as clearly as if it he had only been there yesterday. But he hadn't. His home was gone three thousand years, and nothing he could do or say would take him back there. For the first time in his immortal life, King felt old. 

He turned to glance briefly at Angel, before staring back up at the stars. The vampire with a soul. That brought King a wry chuckle, _the _vampire with a soul, now no longer the only one and both of them in this predicament thanks to Buffy. The thought of the little blonde Slayer brought the voice from the back of his head where it nested. It was screaming at him, screaming for death and carnage, for blood, murder and mayhem. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm himself. The voice withdrew, all the while hissing and cursing him. 

"How do you stand it Angel." He said finally. "How can you live like this, like a man possessed." Angel shrugged. 

"It's what I am." He said. "I learned to stop fighting it, stopped trying to atone for it, because that way, there lies nothing but madness." King chuckled. 

"You and your quest for redemption. You'll never learn will you?" Angel frowned at that. 

"What do you mean?" he said, sounding confused. 

"You've fought for so long Angel, do you really think you can just turn away from redemption like that. You're trapped on your path and you'll never let it go."

"So what if I am?" said Angel. "I've no regrets about the path I chose. Maybe I regret some of the things I've done while I've been on it, but I don't blame the path for that." King straightened and began to stride away. 

"Then I suppose we have nothing more to say to one another." Angel reached out and caught him by the arm as he strode by. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I'm talking about the path we walk Angel." He said with grim determination. "I'm approaching the same crossroads you did. The crossroads where I choose the path the rest of my life will take. You chose to care for them, to protect them, to help them when they needed you." He shook his arm free of Angel's grasp. 

"I on the other hand, am choosing a different path. I don't care what happens to these people, these sheep, so long as they stay out of my way." Angel shook his head. 

"I don't believe that. You have a soul, you can't just stop caring for them like that." King looked at him for moment. 

"Angel," he said, with an air of resignation in his voice, "I'm three thousand years past caring. Unlike you, there is nothing left in this world that holds interest for me. It has forgotten my time, my people. I am truly alone here."

"You don't have to be." Said Angel. "No one has to be alone." King ignored him. The only person he had ever truly cared for was three thousand years dead and the only memento he had of her was now just a pile of molten slag. He turned and strode away, alone with his thoughts. 

AUTHORS NOTE: Well, that's that. Took me while (god damned writers block!) but I finally finished it. Now I can get down to work on the next in my King series, the one I've been working toward since I started writing Buffy fan fic. If you liked this (hey, it could happen) then you should keep your eyes open for it. I haven't thought of a title yet but its going to be good, writers block permitting :  )


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